Peter Parker: CEO of Oscorp
by LumiGlacio
Summary: AU. Dying Norman Osborn names Peter Parker as his successor as the CEO of Oscorp. What can possibly make Peter accept Norman's invitation to a twisted post-mortem game? What will become of those who wanted Oscorp for themselves? Can Peter and MJ's union witstand such a blow? Click and find out!
1. Accepted Variation

**Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, no money is made off this, everything belongs to Disney and Marvel.**

Chapter 1: Accepted Variation

**Oscorp Tower Penthouse, 1st of March, 8:00 PM**

Knock. Knock. Knock. Persistent, irritating knocks occupying the air outside the penthouse's single large window. Legions of little watery knives storming the Osborn fortress under thunderous roars of their loudest, which formed the clouds obstructing the moon. The only light came from these little wonders of H2O themselves, when their relentless in-fighting caused enough energy to create what ancients thought to be divine craft - lightning. Which was a very welcome feat, due to it being the only thing shedding light in the penthouse. It served another function for one man in particular, it was telling him: "We are down there roaring, but we would love to be you". Priceless words he heard every day in the sense of people's looks, their actions, their obvious little expressions. All the men and women around him wanted to be him. All except one. But that one was not present at the moment. All three people looking at him had the same look in their eyes. Wide pupils, increased breath rate, clenched hands about to ruin perfectly good papers... They were obvious. Far too obvious. The man himself lay in a large bed, intended for two people. His old head still containing short brown hair with red lines lay on the pillow on the right, the pillow on the left still present for unknown reason. His sharp bright green eyes almost illuminated the room all by themselves. His skull features were not obstructed by his skin whatsoever, making most people question how something that looks this dead is still alive. Those who knew him in person would also add a "why" to a "how". A wide open smile he had at the most inappropriate moment to have one didn't help the slightest.

"Mister Osborn, this is the time you name your successor.", said one of them to the man. Two people were each on the speaker's right and left. One of them was an old man, not as old as Osborn himself, but quite old. The roundness of his craggy face could only be matched by his ridiculously square jaw that most superheroes would envy. Sadly, he used short black hair and tiny moustache to complement the look, but it never actually complemented, only caused endless jokes about his relations to a certain xenophobic mass murderer. Right now he sat on a chair, holding his infamous jaw with his clenched hands, turning the attention of his gray-blue eyes to the others.

On the speaker's right there was a woman. Fairly young to attend something like this, she looked dignified despite her age, keeping her sculptured face in a serious, calm, reserved expression. Her prominent chin and straight eyebrows would finish the picture, if it hadn't been for her strangely fully white long curly hair, despite the woman barely being half the age of someone commonly having hair this white. She held a paper titled "Inheritance Tax Evasion" in front of herself, consumed fully in reading it, ignoring the speaker.

The speaker himself was a younger man. His sharp onyx eyes would be the most striking feature of his, had he not used old-fashioned round glasses that he had to fix every five seconds. His high and wide cheekbones were also handicapped by his rather unkempt blond hair. He held a pen and a sheet of paper. The pen already made a large dot on the paper, and the speaker held it really close, drilling Osborn with his eyes for an answer.

"You two... get out. I will name my successor only to Menken.", Osborn's quiet, fading voice was barely heard through the knocks of rain. Two people on the speaker's left and right instantly turned their gazes to one another. After a large sigh, the older man stood up first and walked out. The woman followed him out with a satisfied smile. Only the speaker remained on his chair.

"Now then, Menken..." said Osborn, slowly raising his hand to point at the wardrobe. "Bring me my face."

Menken left the pen and paper on his chair, rose up and headed for the wardrobe. Upon opening it he was attacked by a cloud of dust, stunning him for a bit with a peculiar urge to cough. Using nothing but his sense of touch, Menken found something resembling a mask. He took it out and examined it with his own eyes. The mask was mostly green and made of leather, save for the purple cloth pointy hat on it, a few parts of said hat jointed together. The mask itself had a face on it. Well, by a very loose definition of face. Its long ears, long nose, and a pointy chin were only overshadowed by large yellow eye pieces. Menken briefly wiped some dust off it and walked over to Osborn. Osborn leaned his head forward, allowing Menken to put the mask on him. Some clicking noises later the yellow eye pieces began to emit light from the inside, while the mask's mouth began to move correspondingly with Osborn's mouth.

"You remember the plan, don't you, Menken?" Osborn's voice changed drastically from deep and natural to high-pitched with synthetic notes. Menken nodded without a word while sitting down and taking his pen and paper again.

"Then you shall write my successor down.." Osborn coughed through some static noise in the mask. "His name is Peter Benjamin Parker."

Menken silently wrote the name down and handed Osborn the paper. Osborn took it and the pen, writing down a bunch of gibberish under the "Signature" section. After that Osborn put the pen and paper down on his bed. Osborn's smile widened, the static noise got mixed with his quiet laugh.

"Do you hear me, Parker?", said Osborn, still laughing through the static.

Osborn's laugh became loud enough to echo itself through the entire penthouse, mixing with the static and rain knocks into a unique cacophonia.

"I would be a lousy father if I left without teaching... my final lesson..." , the mask gave a clapping noise, and the static ended. Osborn opened his mouth again, but no sound came out. The yellow light from his eye pieces slowly faded as well. Osborn fell on the bed, his mask still maintaining the smile until another clapping noise disconnected it from his own mouth and the mask loosened. The last light was shed on Osborn's lifeless face.

Norman Osborn is dead.

* * *

**New York Central Bank, 2nd of March, 4:00 PM**

"Here's your papers, mister Menken.", behind the half-glass half-concrete wall sat a woman. One hand of hers held papers of importance and the other was busy turning to the next page of a shiny magazine. Menken, who stood on the other side of the wall, was able to see what was the title on the page. "It Can Be Told Now - Oscorp Working Conditions" was the title of that page. Next to the magazine there was a small grey card with a black "G" letter written on it with what seems to be a cheap marker. Menken turned his eyes away and instead focused on the small window through which he received the important papers. He opened his briefcase, which had more papers, a purple leather glove, and a bunch of differently colored vials. Throwing the papers into his briefcase without as much as a look, he raised his right hand, the one with a large silver watch on it.

"I'm ahead of schedule. Good.", he let out a breath of relief and closed the briefcase. In a hurry to leave as soon as possible he missed a sound on his left. Thanks to the panicked screams around him and people running away, plus his own two eyes looking at his left, he was able to deduce that the sound was coming from an armed helicopter.

Without any signs of hesitation, Menken slid under a nearby table and activated a button on his watch. Within seconds his body was covered by a thick layer of shiny metallic goo. After a few sparkling noises Menken disappeared from sight. Just in time the windows of the room shattered, thanks to a small missile the helicopter fired. Menken didn't see the explosion itself, but it did knock the table he's been hiding under. The table's lifespan ended due to smashing against the opposite wall, but Menken could use his state of invisibility to hide in a nearby corridor and see the show.

"This is a raid! Everybody get down!", Menken heard a voice spoken loudly, suggesting a megaphone. The helicopter turned to the side and allowed four shadowy figures to jump into the room. They were wearing navy blue combat suits with gray bulletproof vests resembling those of SAS, with gas masks and helmets on their heads. Menken also saw that the helicopter pilot wore the exact same uniform, save for the colors on the suit and the vest being swapped compared to other members of the assault team. But Menken's focus on him was short, due to the pilot turning his helicopter around and heading away from the bank. The four attackers were armed with two M4 assault rifles and two M37 shotguns respectively. They aimed those weapons at the poor bank employees and clients who couldn't escape in time. Menken has noted another sound. A "thwip" sound.

"Daylight bank robbery? With an obvious helicopter of evil? Really? Why not also announce your intentions with a calling card or something?", the robbers heard a familiar voice behind them. Instantly the two with M4 rifles turned around and unloaded their clips into the window hole they themselves just busted through. When their trigger-happy tempers allowed them to stop firing, they realised every shot either is in the floor or is still flying somewhere in the air. Two hands emerged from outside, both making a gesture of closed middle and ring finger, while the rest of the hand is open. Out of those hands two lines of webbing came out, attaching themselves to both of the M4 rifles. The robbers previously holding those rifles stepped back, pointing at those with shotguns. They looked at each other, and after a muffled growl from both at the same time they stepped forward, pointing their shotguns down. They once again looked at each other, due to finding nothing outside under the broken window. Then they felt an awkward sensation of hands touching their heads from above. Those hands crashed their heads against each other, and then pushed them back into the building. Their weapons fell down with M4s from before. The two remaining robbers, now disarmed, stepped back as a figure jumped into the room.

"I mean really, just because bigger octopi with doctorates aren't around to guide you in the ways of crime...", The figure was a man wearing a head-to-toe spandex costume, mostly blue with red gloves, boots, mid-section with higher half of his arms, and the mask. The red portions of the costume also had a black web pattern all over it, starting between the eye pieces of the mask, which were white pieces of plastic with black outlines.

"...doesn't mean you get to be this incompetent!", he once again closed his middle and ring finger in each hand, pinning two unconscious robbers to the floor with webbing. One of them ran forward directly at the man in spandex and opened up with a straight jab to the face. Which was caught by the man.

"You guys really aren't from these parts, are you? Do you even know who I am?", said the man right before throwing a swift punch directly to the robber's stomach. The robber fell down, holding his stomach with his hands and moaning in pain through his gas mask, creating only muffled unrecognizable sounds.

"Spider-Man!", yelled the voice of the last robber.

"Oh, you do know. Such a reli... uh-oh.", Spider-Man stopped in his tracks. In front of him was the last robber, holding a Desert Eagle handgun and pointing it to a man in front of him. That man cowered his hands with his head, sobbing quietly. His formal attire suggested he was one of the bank employees.

"Please... I have a son...", he said through sobbing.

"Yeah? Well, I have a son too.", said the robber.

"Easy. Just let him go. I'm not gonna attack you.", said Spider-Man, while raising his arms. The robber quickly raised his gun and pressed the trigger. The bullet hit the ceiling.

"What the hell... let go of me!", yelled the robber while his hands were grabbed by something.

"Now, Spider!", a female voice was heard behind the robber. Spider-Man nodded silently and threw a line of webbing, which attached itself to the robber. Spider-Man then pulled it, launching himself directly at the robber and crashing them both into the wall, with a figure rolling to the side and the hostage lying down, both avoiding getting hit.

"I shall now directly address the cat in the room.", said Spider-Man, turning to the woman who was just now behind the robber. She wore a black skin-tight leather body suit, with white gloves and boots, them ending white fur. The centre of her suit was extremely low-cut, complementing itself with a large fur collar. To this day, Spider-Man still has no idea how that even holds together. Anyway, her eyes were covered by large goggles, their shape and color strongly resembling eye pieces of Spider-Man's mask. And, with her long curly hair, she needed only one thing to complete the picture. A wide slightly open smile on her full lips.

"So, Black Cat, what's a kitty like you doing in a place like this?", Spider-Man slowly backed away from her, his hands in front of him.

"The Silvermane Diamond that doesn't know it's mine yet is kept here.", the woman known as Black Cat approached Spider-Man, wiggling her hips back and forth.

"Maybe... it's perfectly content in its... willful ignorance?", suddenly, Spider-Man heard beeping in his head and his vision flashed red outlines for less than a second. He crouched down and sent a fist behind landed right between the legs of a robber who was trying to grab Spider-Man with both of his arms. In a loud yet muffled scream the robber was sent a few feet back and landed into a table, shattering its poor wooden defenses with his mass.

"Wachoooooooow... ", Spider-Man kept the pose for five seconds, shouting in an oriental accent of lackluster quality and accuracy. He ended it with the intention to get up, but it was interrupted by Black Cat pinning him down on the floor by the shoulders.

"How does that little sense of yours work? All the years we've known each other, and I never asked.", said Black Cat, licking her lips.

"Well it's a complex biological analysis machine that works twenty-four seven. It accesses the situation and detects strong possibilities of damage towards itself and therefore me. Part of it is a neurological scanner detecting brain patterns that equal hostile intentions...", Spider-Man began to speak in a sped up quiet tone.

"Oh I love it when you technobabble", she whispered.

"Well actually it's biobabble...", Spider-Man's attention got stolen by several bank employees, standing around him and Black Cat with their eyes open wide.

"This is not what it looks like! Or sounds like! Or.. feels like...", Spider-Man pointed at each of the bank employees in a row, like a scolding parent points at their children.

"Why haven't you all evacuated yet anyway?", said Spider-Man, yet they all continued to be standing there. Spider-Man moaned and cleared his throat with a cough,

"Ok. There is a giant bomb that will turn this place into a rubble in four minutes! Run, for drama's sake!", everyone's eyes widened, following with a loud screaming chorus, culminating in a stampede that almost costed the door its hypothetical life.

"I wouldn't have minded the audience.", said Black Cat. She stood up and walked away for a short distance, right before stopping and turning around. She put her right leg in front of her left leg, setting them apart at shoulder-width. She also stretched out her right arm at full length in front of herself, while her other arm was placed right in front of her torso.

"Shall a fine gentleman such as you grant a lady this dance?", she clenched and unclenched her fists for a second, and claws came out from each of her fingers.

"A lady? You? That'd be the day.", he leapt forward, firing a thin line of web directly at the Black Cat.

She leaned her torso to the side and slashed the web with claws on her left hand. Spider-Man landed with a roll forward, ending in two shots of web balls, one from each hand. Both of them hit the glass wall instead of Black Cat, who jumped forward with a raised leg. That raised leg met Spider-Man's crossed forearms above his head, which pushed Black Cat into landing via a somersault.

"I'm having way too much fun!", said Black Cat loudly with a smile. Now being close to Spider-Man, she opened up with two swift horizontal slashes of her claws in a row.

"So am I, it's been a while!", Spider-Man smiled under the mask while using his forearms to deflect Black Cat's slashes. A quick backflip from Spider-Man increased the distance between them again. Black Cat dashed forward.

"Beep, beep!", that was the sound of a phone inside Spider-Man's belt. He pulled it out with one hand, putting the other one in front of himself with vertical palm and fingers. Black Cat stopped after struggling with inertia for a bit and resulting in a screeching sound.

"Oh, hi!", said Spider-Man through the phone.

"Hey tiger, what do you want for dinner?", a female voice was heard on the other end.

"But wasn't it my turn to cook today?", he walked around the room while talking. Black Cat waved her hand at him as he walked right past her.

"Sure would be, but i'm off from work early, and you are still fighting bad guys, right?", Spider-Man raised his pointer finger after the voice on the phone said that, as if it could be seen.

"I... I got nothing. You win.", Spider-Man lowered his finger. Black Cat stood in front of him with crossed arms and a fiercely dissatisfied frown. Spider-Man turned to the right.

"Ha! The Spectacular Mary Jane Parker triumphs once again!", her follow-up laugh was so loud it was heard by others through the phone and even woke up one of the attackers.

"So, what do you want added in the soup? Carrots or onion rings?", said Mary Jane.

"Hang on a second, I need an opinion. Hey you!", Spider-Man pulled the now awakened attacker. "What's your name?"

"Robert Banks... the Third...", he whispered through his gas mask.

"Oh for the love of... so, what would you like in a soup, carrots or onion rings?", said Spider-Man, still holding him by the collar.

"Wha... what kind of a que... c-carrots?", after answering he found himself at the receiving end of Spider-Man's punch and went back into the dreamland.

"Onion rings.", Spider-Man went back to phone. "Or, you know what, let's just go to Harry's today."

"You sure? He hasn't been himself lately...", said Mary Jane.

"Exactly, we can check in on him."

"Ok then. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Splendid." He hung up the phone, put it back into his belt.

"So where were we... Cat? Kitty?", he didn't see her anywhere in the room.

"Huh. Oh well.", he fell on a nearby chair, pressing some more buttons on his phone. "Hey, got some robbers webbed in Central Bank. Bring your shiniest handcuffs. With love and caution, Spider-Man"

* * *

**New York Rooftops, 2nd of March, 4:00 PM**

In a typical New York afternoon, citizens of all streets sometimes look at their windows in hope of witnessing something special. Today, as usual, some of them got lucky. A web line was attached to the building containing such lucky fellows, with Spider-Man on the other end using it to swing forward. His head was faced forward, and he continuously fired web lines upwards, switching from one to another. Sometimes, he'd put his hand up for just a second and adjust it until red outlines in his vision and beeping in his ears ends and then fire the web line. All while checking out the confused looks of those lucky enough to witness him swinging around.

"Wo-hoo, go Spidey!", yelled someone in the crowd. Spider-Man waved that person back. The beeping and red outlines intensified.

"Wo-hoo to you too, fair ci... OW!", Spider-Man felt something very solid and hard crashing right into his face. When he detached his head from that object, he realised that he had in fact crashed into a billboard. Having both his hands and feet still on the vertical billboard, he kept sticking on it for a while, shaking his head. He then jumped high and landed on one of the rooftops.

"Yeah, yeah, should have listened to Spider-Sense, shut up...", he whispered very quietly to himself. He checked out the positioning of nearby windows.

"Ok, no one is looking.", he whipped out a small photo camera and attached it to the rooftop door. Some webbing kept the camera from falling.

"Now comes the fun part". Spider-Man positioned himself in a way that the camera is facing his side.

"Five... four... three... two... one!", he leapt forward and then used the web line to pull the camera back to him. He turned it around and saw himself mid-leap on the photo preview.

"Perfect.", he saved the photo, cleaned up the camera from webs, and put it back into his belt.

"Praise be Dormammu!", suddenly Spider-Man heard a voice from down on the street. He turned his eyes to the source of the sound. The source was a group of people with protest signs blocking the street. The signs displayed such delightful slogans as "World under Dormammu" or "Dormammu will return".

"Why not pick someone nicer to worship... one that doesn't need a fiery pit of evil doom?", said Spider-Man quietly while applying his palm directly to his forehead. With one palm of his still stuck in that position, he swung away.

* * *

**Daily Bugle, 2nd of March, 4:10 PM**

"Aah... aah... aachoo!", not an uncommon sound around Daily Bugle offices. It came from a man around thirty, dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and unbuttoned collar. He had short brown hair, almost all of it pointing in different directions, giving it the look of messy hair, which it probably was. His face was heart-shaped, it contained a pointed chin and a wide forehead. His high and wide cheekbones always held an awkward, innocent smile. His brown eyebrows had one detail about them - the left one was always higher than the other one. But his large blue eyes weren't misplaced at all.

"Away with you, dust, away with you!" He waved his hand in front of his face. "Aachoo!"

"Parker! Who let you order the dust around? That's my job!", said an old man behind an office desk, who thoroughly enjoyed making his round craggy face move via talking. That and short black hair with very short moustache gave an unfortunate image. His brown business suit didn't really help the situation, and neither did his gruff low voice. Or his table full of papers and variously colored pills.

"Sorry, mister Jameson, it's just that any more of this dust could clarify as a gas attack", Parker wiped his nose after sneezing so much.

"Nonsense, I would never booby-trap my office with gas. Only presidential candidates should do that. To voters. If I was a presidential candidate, I'd rig my voting machines with explosives!", Jameson picked up a cigar and started to smoke it.

"But... you'd then lose...", Parker raised his pointer finger on his right hand.

"Precisely! Being the President sucks anyway. Everything is your fault. Agonizing economy, continued existence of Spider-Man, some whipper-snappers not having iPhones for Christmas. You know what I wanted for Christmas, Parker?", Jameson threw his cigar out of the open window.

"I can't imagine, Jonah...", Parker rolled his eyes.

"A puppy! Did I ever get one? No! Because life is hard as adamantium balls! Anyway, show me what you've got.", Jonah cleaned a part of the table. Parker nodded and showed a picture of Spider-Man mid-leap on a rooftop.

"Crap. Absolute vomit-inducing trashy disgrace on photographers everywhere. That'll be fifty bucks and it's going on front page.", Jameson handed Parker the money, the latter quietly sighed and took it.

"I can see the headline: Spider-Man on the run! New York's last remaining super villain is still at large!", Jameson stood up.

"All these years, still obsessed over one guy in pajamas, and why?", said Parker.

"I have over fifty reasons, but let me show you one. Tell me, Peter, what do you really think of me?", said Jameson.

"Y-you are a great person and a benevolent boss with sharp sense of style?", Peter scratched the back of his head and smiled awkwardly.

"See? Lies. Now put this on and tell me again.", Jonah pulled a paper bag out of the drawer and put it on Peter's head.

"You lost me...", said Peter.

"Oh right. It doesn't work when I know who you are.", Jameson pulled the bag off Peter and threw it out of the window. "You see, Parker, masks let scumbags do whatever they want."

"But is me telling the truth really that bad?", said Parker.

"No, but it's a start. Then you might be like "Oh, it's ok for me to throw a bomb at that guy, because I am masked and no one will know". Well guess what, I know! I know everything! I even know what Julia Roberts is wearing right now! A thong, by the way. A black one. Point is, masks are like power. Both of them let you to just weeeee off without any kind of moral restraint.", Jonah sat back down, took some pills, and drank a glass of water.

"So... what's your restraint then? You're a person with power.", said Peter.

"My wife. And these pills. And this beautiful open window that I can throw everything out of in case I don't like it. Really helps with anger management. You should have one. Bleh. This pill tastes like Justin Bieber's music. God forgive me for putting those words together.", Jonah threw the pills out of the window. "Ok I'm done. Go get yourself a big open window. Get out."

"Fine, fine... good bye, Jonah...", Peter walked out.

* * *

**Pizza Spice Blast, 2nd of March, 4:35 PM**

Pizza Spice Blast had the misfortune of being placed among fifty other restaurants, but even then, it displayed a distinction. Mainly with being in its own house. House that, sadly, looked like an enormous brick. With a giant "Pizza Spice Blast" logo written in orange letters behind a neon green fire effect. Right over some small windows and a door which Peter knocked and then opened right after. The inside of the restaurant was colored in mostly red and black, with wooden chairs and tables that had very few customers on them looking through menus. One of them waved at Peter.

"Over here!", said the aforementioned customer. It was a woman in a black top and brown jeans. She had long straight unnaturally red hair. Large green eyes, open smile on her full lips. An even larger smile happened when she saw Peter noticing her.

"Coming, MJ!", Peter sat behind her table.

"So, it seems you are kinda-sorta-teeny-bit late.", said Mary Jane in a fake-ish tone normally reserved for lying.

"Well... there was traffic...", said Peter in the same tone.

"Oh I just love that old excuse.", she giggled. "Brings back memories. But... it doesn't really work when I know who you are. I mean, what? Was it a traffic of fifty Spider-Men swinging in rows? Is that even possible?"

"Yes. All dressed up in different costumes. And different voices. And one of them has four extra metallic limbs nobody notices.", said Peter, showing the situation with hand gestures.

"Now you're just being silly.", she laughed. "Who was it today? If anyone?"

"Just, like, four guys in gas masks. And Black Cat...", said Peter.

"Her, huh?", Mary Jane lowered her head. "Did you have fun?"

"Not in that way! Not in... any way, really.", Peter scratched the back of his neck.

"Would you like to order something now?", said a monotonous female voice. Both Peter and MJ tracked the source of said voice with their eyes and found that it was coming from a waitress. The waitress in question had tannish skin, brown hair, long oval face, large brown eyes with dark circles around them, and full lips in a frown. Peter and MJ first looked at her, then at each other and sighed in unison.

"Liz, it's us. Peter and MJ.", said MJ.

"Oh right! I'll go call Harry.", she ran off immediately.

"What's the commotion that demands the attention of Harold Osborn?", a tall man in black business suit came in. His eyes were behind massive sunglasses, and his mouth was covered by his hand. He had short brown hair with red lines.

"Harry, it's us. Peter and MJ.", said Peter and MJ in unison, rolling their eyes in perfect sync.

"Oh crap. Now I don't get to look badass.", Harry removed the hand from his mouth.

"How're you holding up, Harry?", said Peter. Harry sighed and sat behind their table.

"Okay. Really, okay. I got everything under control. I'm an Osborn, that's what we do.", Harry maintained a smile.

"Good.", said Peter. "Means I'll still have time to beat you in Street Fighter 4."

"Ha! Not in a million years.", Harry shrugged with his hand. "But really... there is no time. I'm sorry, but I'm kinda busy."

"It's ok. We'll just have a pepperoni pizza here and leave.", said Peter.

"Thank you. Oh and by the way... Donald Menken was here.", said Harry.

"Menken? Why?", said Peter.

"Looking for you. He said he'll drop by May's place next.", said Harry. Peter's eyes widened. He and MJ both stood up, and ran out of the restaurant.

"Guess that means no pizza.", Harry walked out and headed to the restroom. There he found the nearest mirror and a sink. He took off his sunglasses, and used the sink to wash his face. He looked in the mirror and saw his own shining green eyes. He closed them and put the sunglasses back on.

* * *

**Abandoned Subway Station, 2nd of March, 6:00 PM**

"Aaachoo!", not an uncommon sound in dusty abandoned stations either. This particular sound belonged to Black Cat, who crawled her way through rows and rows of various used technology. Metallic snake-like objects, a green still sharp sting, a cracked crystal ball, a yellow costume with fishnets all over it. But at the end of the mountain of used tech there was a short bald man in a strangely clean white lab coat. That man pulled out a dusty gas mask and attached it to a nearby oxygen tank.

"Do you have the diamond?", he said through the mask, not turning around and thus not facing Black Cat.

"Sorry. There have been complications. Not just Spider-Man. Someone else is after it.", said Black Cat. She looked at a yellow belt with a green button on its centre and reached out for it. Noise immediately began to emit from the piles of technical rubble, and eventually sentry guns rose from that rubble, all pointing at Black Cat.

"No diamond... no deal.", said the old man.

* * *

**Aunt May's Home, 2nd of March,6:00 PM**

"Aunt May, hold on!", Peter yelled, kicking the door inside. He ran into the house, Mary Jane right behind him holding a Beretta handgun.

"My, what's with the noise?", said an old lady behind the table. Donald Menken sat with her.

"Mister Parker, please watch the news.", said Menken.

* * *

**TV News**

_It has been announced today, that New York's leading philanthropist and CEO of Oscorp Industries Norman Virgil Osborn passed away. What will happen to his company and will his son, Harold Theopolis Osborn, take the position, is yet unknown._

* * *

**Aunt May's Home**

"Actually it is known.", said Menken. "Mister Parker, this position is yours."

* * *

**End Chapter One**


	2. Global Opening

**Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, no money is made off this, everything belongs to Disney and Marvel.**

Chapter 2: Global Opening

**Aunt May's Home, 2nd of March,6:00 PM**

There are only a few things that could stay still, completely still. No, not just stand. To be completely suspended in motion, every atom of your body, every electron, all simply ceasing to move on an equally motionless foothold. To be motionless in a scientific sense you'd have to be frozen at zero kelvins, temperature equal to minus two hundred seven three degrees celcius, otherwise known as absolute zero. And so that your body would not move thanks to whatever you are standing on, you need to be specifically set up in space with all the forces that would normally make your lifeless frozen body move at least a bit cancel each other out from opposing directions, removing even slightest possibility of sudden motion. Yes, it takes a lot to not move at all, but Peter Parker in his current predicament made it fairly close to achieving that feat.

"What? J-just like that?", his voice was set on the blurred line between speaking and thinking, even the noise of Menken turning off the TV was beating it effortlessly at being heard clearly. Peter closed his eyes and placed his right hand at his chest. Mary Jane placed her left hand at his shoulder. Peter then absorbed as much oxygen as he could with his lungs, and slowly let it out. He opened his eyes and saw the same thing. Aunt May and Donald Menken behind a table, with a set of two fresh tea cups, showing their readiness to be used with fresh steam. Next to those cups there were two empty ones.

"I need time. To... swallow all this.", Peter slammed the door nearby, swiftly storming into another room and Mary Jane following him.

"I'm terribly sorry, mister Menken, my nephew sometimes gets emotional.", said aunt May with a smile and stood up.

"What about the tea, miss Parker?", said Menken, while pointing at the cups that weren't empty.

"I think I've had enough tea, sorry.", aunt May headed to the room Peter was in with a fast walk that was just bordering on running. She opened the door and saw Mary Jane hold Peter's shoulders, Peter himself having the same expression as before.

"Snap out of it, Peter, we need to focus.", said Mary Jane, gently shaking his shoulders. Life returned to Parker's eyes after a few blinks.

"Right. Yes. Sorry.", he removed Mary Jane's hands off his shoulders.

"Question is... why Peter? Why did that man pick... Peter?", said aunt May. Her expression changed from a smile to a frown and her eyes became more narrow.

"It's a trap. No doubt about it.", Peter spoke through clenched teeth. "A trap that I have to face."

Without looking back, Peter went the way he came from, leaving Mary Jane and aunt May in the room. Menken was still behind the table, both cups were still untouched, still emitting the steam. Peter sat behind the table as well, on the seat aunt May was using earlier. Beeping followed with red outlines appeared in Peter's head. He took the cup closest to Menken and pulled it over to himself, pushing his own cup to Menken instead. The beeping and outlines continued. Must be this guy's own vibe, thought Peter. One of Menken's eyebrows rose up.

"This one has a cute flower on it.", Peter pointed at the picture of an amaryllis on the cup.

"But this one also has a flower.", on the cup that now became Menken's, he showed a picture of a bellflower.

"Oh well.", Menken picked up the cup. "I am here to discuss business."

"Why me?", Peter picked up his cup. Slowly the tea found itself down his throat. Menken's breathing slowed down, and he began drinking from his own cup as well.

"Mister Osborn wrote your name in his will. His motives are a mystery, especially given the recent... discoveries.", Menken drunk his tea dry and left the cup on the table.

"Recent discoveries?", Peter put the emphasis on the word "recent".

"Yes. We discovered a secret laboratory within the Oscorp facility. It contained countless gadgets and devices used by a super criminal Green Goblin."

Peter finished his tea as well, so it was back to the table for his cup,

"Well... now you know why I can't accept this offer.", Peter put one of his hands under the table and clenched it in a shaking fist.

"Of course... it's about miss Stacy. I understand.", Menken stood up. "But if you don't mind e saying, turning an offer such as this down because of one man's actions would be... irresponsible, wouldn't it?"

"We will be waiting tomorrow, mister Parker. Please think about it.". Menken walked over to the exit, without Peter as much as moving an inch.

* * *

**New York Streets, 2nd of March, 6:25 PM**

May fate be merciful on those who cross New York streets during the evening in their wide land vehicles commonly referred to as cars. For they have a tendency to contradict their very premise of allowing you to go wherever you want quickly. Such betrayal comes in the form of traffic jams, endless rows of cars stuck because somebody had a crash, drove the latest model of slowest truck in the multiverse, or in general wasn't very good at this.

And so thanks to that very someone, Donald Menken was stuck in a traffic jam. The car he was in stood out from all the other bulky, grey, rusty cars. His car was a streamlined slick example of elegance, sporting a pure neon green color. And every time another car's exhaust unwittingly hits his car, he felt like it was a stab through his own flesh with an army knife and held his briefcase tighter. While trying to avert his gaze from the grey cars, Donald noticed an alley. After a few back-and-forth looks into the alley and at cars, he sighed and opened his car's right butterfly door. Under the verbal soundtrack provided by the drivers behind him, Menken slipped into an alley and unlocked his briefcase. He took a few empty vials and dropped them. They hit the ground and made three sounds of shattering.

"Saw ya comin' out of that sweet car, rich boy. Ya not gonna miss it, are ya?", the voice came out from further down the alley. It belonged to one of the three men who all were standing there. They all were dressed in rusty torn leather, and one of them held a simple knife. Menken paid only a glimpse to them while taking out a purple glove, putting it on his hand, and closing the briefcase. The three men walked over to Menken with smiles, until one of them was suddenly blasted away by a beam that left a big burn on his chest, so he fell down screaming. The other two backed away from the source, which turned out to be Menken's purple glove. Menken had his other hand wrapped around his wrist, and his own body was a few steps away from his original position. His briefcase was laying on the ground. At the centre of the glove's palm there was a glowing orange circle, its glow intensified and another beam came out of it, knocking the second man away in burns and screams. But it also pushed Menken's own hand upwards and forced him to step further back. Menken began to lower his hand quickly, so the final would-be assailant turned his tail and stormed away from Donald, and this one had another beam hit right above his head. At the same time, Menken fell on his back.

"Dammit...", he scratched his head, then he rolled over to lay on his front. He saw his own car still there, with no sign of other cars nearby. Through some growling, he stood up, took the briefcase, and headed for his car.

* * *

**Peter Parker's apartment, 2rd of March, 9:30 PM**

Some dinners are naturally quiet. They are content with being the gentle evenings with no words said, essentially relaxation moments. Some dinners are loud, especially common among large families, talking would never end in those. For them it's not even as much about food as a chance to gather up and chat. Even smaller families, for example ones with long time apart from each other with every person in the family working, enjoy such occasions.

This evening, Peter Parker sat behind a table, scanning a bowl of soup with his eyes. He then picked an onion ring without haste, and began to munch it without raising his eyes. His mouth immediately closed in a frown after that, his eyes continued to gaze into the soup. They were in a tight small room with plain white walls. The aforementioned table took up most of the space for itself, its two cronies known as "chairs" took half of the remaining space. Two doors led outside. One to the kitchen, the other to a corridor that led to the bathroom, the restroom, and the bedroom.

"You feeling alright, tiger?", the voice of Mary Jane came up from the other end of the table, her eyes dead-set on Peter.

"Yes, I am ok.", he picked up another onion ring.

"Look, Peter, you can fool the world with your secrecy, but you could never fool me.", she crossed her arms.

"I said I'm fine. Really.", Peter hastened in his act of eating the soup.

"No, you're not. That man instilled as much pain on me as he did on you. You can talk to me about this.", in response to her words Peter ejected himself from the seat and grabbed the door handle.

"Not. As. Much.", he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind himself so hard that a clock fell from the wall. Without looking back he stepped into the small bedroom. Same plain white walls would have been seen, had it not been dark in there. A bed intended for two people is always quite big, and this one was no exception, making it difficult for Peter to get to the other end of the room. While he was overcoming that challenge by walking around the bed, he unbuttoned his shirt. The shirt then was removed, and the upper part of Spider-Man bodysuit was revealed with an addition of rolled-up sleeves. Peter unrolled those sleeves, put gloves on his hands, let his blue jeans fall after removing the belt. Soon after, the socks were also gotten rid of. After all that, Peter stood in his full Spider-Man costume, or at least it would be full, had it not been for the lack of a mask. He opened a wardrobe, which revealed a multitude of costumes of different colors and designs. He found his trusty red mask and put it on while walking over to the window. After a few gestures, the window was unlocked, the rain's water found its way into the room. Spider-Man stepped on the windowsill.

"Beep, beep"

"Who is it?", Spider-Man answered his phone with great irritation in his voice.

"Hey, Spidey, I need some assistance with... stuff. Can you come over? Right now?", at the other end a fairly soft male voice was heard.

"Sure thing, Tony. I'll be right over. I need something to get off my mind anyway." , Spider-Man fired a web line outside. Just as the door to the bedroom opened once more.

"Peter, I'm... huh.", she noticed the open window and the water viciously attacking the bed sheets. She put her right hand to her forehead, following with a deep sigh. She slammed the window back into closed position. Then came time to change the bed sheets. Or it would have come...

"Beep, beep"

"Yes?", Mary Jane picked up her phone without looking at it.

"Miss Parker, the convention today was great, but the deadline is approaching. I trust that it's going well?", on the other side there was a man's voice.

"Yes, mister Harras, you've got nothing to worry about.", Mary Jane's tone was calm and focused.

"Good. Should be done by the end of the week then. Bye.", the phone was hung up. Mary Jane left it on one of the shelves their wardrobe had. There was a night stand right next to it. Mary Jane opened it and took two things: a little book and a pencil. She put those two things on the aforementioned night stand, sitting on the bed herself. She then opened the book. It contained a few pages of drawings and white bubbles of text, sections of such pictures separated from each other by white lines. She flipped those pages, until the one spread that gave her pause. On the left page, there was a man, covered in his black cape and cowl. He stood on a road paved with stone, from both sides of the road there was grass in motion from the dark and stormy night. In front of him there was a gravestone. The other page was blank. Mary Jane took her pencil and started drawing a line, but halted immediately. She sat there perfectly still, not moving an inch, for a good ten minutes.

"Not as much, huh...", she whispered to herself. "I bet she would know."

* * *

**Stark Tower, 2rd of March, 9:40 PM**

"So, is anyone here?", said Spider-Man after landing on the penthouse's spacious balcony. Massiveness of rain water still hit him from above, darkening his spandex suit. There was something soft underneath him. He lowered his head and noticed a large red carpet laying there under rain. After spending a second and a half to contemplate the carpet's unfortunate fate, Spider-Man jumped at the enormous window with the intention of sticking to it with his four limbs.

"Tony, open up, it's me.", he pounded on the glass, creating a loud sound comparable to that of giant hammers hitting equally giant anvils.

"Voice imprint: Spider-Man. Access granted.", obeying the monotonous electronic sound out of nowhere the window opened up by itself and dragged still attached Spider-Man inside.

"Mister Spider-Man, I don't mean to intrude, but your pressure on me is overwhelming.", said the same voice.

"Oh right, sorry.", Spider-Man detached himself from the window and found himself in the penthouse. There wasn't much to look around due to it being extremely dark. The faint light provided by the outside world did absolutely nothing to help that situation.

"Tony? Where are you?", Spider-Man put both of his palms on the sides of his mouth and shouted further into the penthouse.

"Right here!", after a clapping sound one spotlight activated and beamed directly at a specific man. That man had a heart-shaped face complemented by short black hair with a touch of white on the sides of his wide forehead, and equally black old-fashioned goatee on his pointed chin. His smile and his glare were that of a lion, comfortable within his own kingdom. But his voice was a bit soft. His black business suit and a white shirt completed the image of Anthony Howard Stark.

"Let me guess, you want me to... actually, what is it that you want? And why is that there?", Spider-Man pointed at another shiny black business suit hanging right beside Tony Stark.

"That? It's yours. Welcome to the one percent, Peter Parker.", Tony's hands engaged in clapping.

"Jarvis...", Spider-Man turned over to the window. "Open sesame."

"I'm sorry.", said the electronic voice from the window. "Now I am programmed to exclaim Taylor Swift songs if you approach me. And I'm locked."

Spider-Man turned back to Tony. His arms began to rise up.

"How?!", Spider-Man swiftly lowered his arms, they murdered the air molecules under them like two vicious hammers. "How do you know about that? And how do you know my sizes?!"

"Sizes? Why, through this.", Stark took out a remote and pointed it to his left while pressing a button. Another spotlight activated in the area of five pods. It spotlighted on only one of them, two pods on each sides were shadowed, only displaying silhouettes of armors. But the centre one showed a red bodysuit with yellow metallic pieces on wrist, ankles, and eyes. Also it had a large metallic yellow spider covering the entire torso.

"Oh right. That.", Spider-Man gazed at it briefly, then shifted his attention back to Tony.

"As for the other how... well, there has been some moving at the stock market, and most of Oscorp's shares mysteriously got registered under the name Peter Parker. I wonder what's up with that.", Tony turned off the spotlight showcasing the red and yellow suit.

"Haven't you seen the news? Osborn is dead. They want me to run his stuff now, because he told them so. I had nothing to do with this...", Spider-Man pulled his mask off his face.

"You should accept it."

"What? Why?"

"Put this on and get downstairs. I'll show you why.", Tony shoved the shiny suit into Peter's hands and headed towards the exit, turning on another spotlight above that. "Jarvis, open this door for him when he is ready."

The door to downstairs was eventually open. Peter Parker went through it, wearing that exact suit containing shiny black pants which had the honor of carrying a tie in the pocket, a black jacket which he wore open, and a white shirt with the top button disconnected. Loud, bombastic, crashing music hit Parker's ears which made him close them and his eyes for a good measure. He spent some time doing that until he opened his ears and eyes and the music didn't feel as loud. Peter found himself in a hall similar to those of a restaurant, except with neon colors of every kind striking Peter from everywhere. Red was added to his vision, and he coughed after smelling nicotine in the air. He waved in front of himself.

"What are you waving at me for, Pete?", the voice of Tony Stark was heard. After stopping the waving act Peter realised that aforementioned Tony Stark was in fact standing right in front of him.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to people.", he grabbed Peter's hand and began to walk towards the nearest table. Peter dragged behind him with the facial expression as close to that of a helpless puppy as humanly possible. They arrived at the nearest table occupied by a blond man in a grey business suit, covering upper part of his face with sunglasses and the lower part by combining his hands in front of it while using the elbows as support on the table.

"Hey there Justin, this is Peter Parker. Peter Parker, this is Justin Hammer. Have a nice chat while I prepare something.", Tony walked off to parts unknown.

"So...", Justin began to speak in a boyish, almost age-inappropriate voice. "You came from upstairs. By helicopter, I presume?"

"Y-yeah... helicopter. That.", Peter put on a twitching smile and his hand was scratching the back of his head.

"Lobster?", Justin pointed at the dish present at the table, that is a perfectly prepared lobster with some greens and tomatoes.

"No... thanks.", Peter turned his eyes away from the lobster.

"Well... everyone knows why you're here. I expect great things from our new top contractor.", he detached one hand from his hands combined formation to raise a glass of wine.

"Wait... what are you talking about?", Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Your shareholders haven't filled you in?", Justin also raised an eyebrow. "Norman Osborn was our top contractor on this little business called creation of supervillains."

Peter put his hands on the table and took a deep breath.

"Most of the world's supervillains are dead, aren't they?"

"Not quite, some of them managed to hide and disappear. Like Norman's last creation, the Green Goblin, seems to still be around. I guess that's why he left the business. Couldn't top that.", Justin swallowed the contents of his own glass in one go.

"I'm not going to do that. Sorry.", Peter held the inner parts of his cheeks from expressing anything by his teeth.

"Oh... damn. I hope you aren't one of those naive boys that think they can just get by with their morals intact.", Justin put the glass on the table, creating a distinct smashing sound, though the glass remained whole.

"Tony Stark can. I'll manage just fine."

"So thought we all."

"I think I heard enough.", Peter began to get up.

The pounding music suddenly ceased to exist in the hall,

"Ladies, gentlemen, and people with unspecified gender identity, this is Tony Stark speaking!" Peter searched the source of that loud voice with his eyes. He found that the source, being Tony Stark, was standing at the stage and holding a microphone.

"Today I'd like to introduce my new friend, mister Peter Benjamin Parker, who just now inherited Norman Osborn's entire fortune and his position as the CEO of Oscorp! Let's welcome mister Parker into our circle of... doing fun things our circle does.", a spotlight activated over Peter.

"Tony sure loves his spotlights...", Peter mumbled.

"Peter, would you please come over here so we could ask you a few questions?", Tony didn't even finish his sentence, but Peter was already shaking his head.

"No, no... no. I... need to attend to... the restroom.", Peter headed to the corridor leading to the restroom via a fast paced walk. A woman followed him.

Peter stopped halfway in the corridor. He grabbed the collar of his shirt with his left hand, pulling the collar away from his neck. His breath became heavier and more intense. He put his other hand on the forehead, which was sweating bullets. His vision started to emit red.

"H-how?!", Peter heard a female voice from behind after he grabbed what he felt was a wrist. While still holding the wrist he turned around. The wrist belonged to a woman with curly white hair and a sculptured face, which was bursting with widely open eyes and clenched teeth. She was wearing a white fully buttoned shirt with a black tie, and a black jacket over that shirt. A black skirt of middle length, brown stockings and black shoes on high heels.

"Sable Manfredi.", said Peter while looking at her wrist. It was her right wrist, and it had a small double-edged blade coming out from the inside of her sleeve. The blade had some transparent liquid dip from its tip.

"Otherwise known as Silvermane mafia princess, the Silver Sable.", he granted a smile of an arrogant king to his lips at the same time her lips opened in disbelief.

"How can you possibly...", she abrupted her own statement, expression on her lips loosened, her eyes no longer open as wide. The blade retracted back under her sleeve. Peter let go of her wrist. Their eyes met each other and engaged in blinkless staredown that continued for a few minutes.

"You certainly have what it takes...", Sable sighed and walked off.

Peter shook his head violently and followed her to the hall soon after. Tony Stark immediately started waving at him, but Peter did not respond at all. Peter kept walking towards the door he originally walked into the hall from, that led into upstairs.

"I'll be right back, everybody!", said Tony into the microphone right before following Peter.

"Peter, what's wrong?", Tony finally caught up to Peter in the room upstairs.

"Tony, you've shown me nothing I didn't know. They are scumbags, I can't be among them.", Peter stood with his back facing Tony.

"I can be among them, you can too.", Tony locked the door from downstairs.

"I have no idea how can you, there are so many of them and only one of you.", Peter took a few steps forward.

"Precisely. There is only one of me."

Peter walked over to the window. Tony waved his hand at it and it opened. Peter turned around, nodded, and left.

* * *

**Peter Parker's apartment, 2rd of March, 23:35 PM**

"Welcome back, Peter.", said Mary Jane after noticing a shadow over her. She was laying down in bed, so the shadow above her was Spider-Man sitting on the windowsill and blocking the rain with his back.

"MJ, sorry about before...", he lowered his head.

"It's... ok.", she attempted a smile, but smiles mid-yawn aren't usually very distinct. "Did you make a decision?"

"I'll make it tomorrow. I need to see it."

* * *

**Silvermane penthouse, 2rd of March, 23:35 PM**

There was a large hall. A large usually dark hall due to sun and moon blocked by the middle-to-top part of Oscorp Tower. But the soft light from the inside lit that hall nicely, showcasing everything placed on its walls. The walls were filled with weapons of both decorative and practical types, ranging from modern katanas to automatic rifles. Sable Manfredi was present on the opposite side of the hall from the window. In front of her there was a large terminal, showing various names from Bullseye to Hobgoblin and listing their status from "executed" to "missing".

"Old-fashioned way...", Sable said to herself. "...is the best."

* * *

**End Chapter Two**


	3. Fool's Mate?

**Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, no money is made off this, everything belongs to Disney and Marvel.**

Chapter 3: Fool's Mate?

**New York Central Park, 10 years ago, 3:00 PM**

New York Central Park is a really uneven place. Trees that make you wonder if it's a forest, stone roads and bridges over rivers, a lake or two, and some plain fields. One of these plain fields stretched out far and wide, and despite being full of people, it still contained enough space for two kids to be away from everyone else. They both faced each other from a pretty long distance, and behind each of them was an outline, chalked on the grass. Both of them were boys. One's short blonde hair and impressive height for a boy his age contrasted another, much shorter boy with short brown hair, which contained horizontal red lines. Away from the shorter boy there were two backpacks right next to each other. In front of the blonde boy, a black and white rubber ball was present. Until the boy pushed it away by kicking it.

"That's nothing!", the other boy leapt in perpendicular direction, positioning himself right in front of the ball. He closed his eyes shut and placed his right knee in front of himself. He would stay in that position, but gravity got to vote as well, so eventually he was hit with a sensation of something solid on his face and body. He opened his eyes. Pitch blackness was revealed to him, with another sensation of something in his mouth. He quickly raised his upper body and spit the ground in his mouth away. Afterwards he began a search with his eyes. The blonde boy still stood where he was before, scratching his head. On the other side, the ball was happily rolling away.

"Harry. What are you doing here?", it was a calm, reserved, deep voice of a grown man. Harry turned his eyes up and forward, to the source of that voice. It came from a tall man, who was wearing a dark green business suit showing a bit of his black shirt and purple tie. His face was hidden by the sun behind him emitting hard light.

"Dad...". Harry moved his head back down. "I was just playing with..."

"Harry, your grades have been lowering and you waste time here?", Norman Osborn had his eyes fixed on the other boy, who just grabbed his backpack and turned around.

"But it's just a C...", Harry said in a lowered voice, partially closing his mouth.

"What was that?", Norman leaned forward a bit.

"N-nothing!", Harry's voice got louder. "I just didn't understand the subject, that's all, I did my best..."

"Why don't you study with Peter? He is your friend and a much more worthy investment of your time.", Norman walked over to Harry's backpack and tossed it towards Harry himself. Harry closed his eyes instinctively and opened them only after a loud striking noise emerged without him feeling it on himself. Cautiously he opened his eyes, the backpack was right in front of him.

"Peter is on vacation...", Harry put his backpack on and stood up.

"And you aren't, with no one to blame but yourself.", Norman put both of his hands on his son's shoulders. Harry raised his eyes, looking directly into Norman's own sharp blue eyes. Norman continued to speak in a cold tone, pausing after every word.

"My son will do better next time, understand?"

Suddenly Norman's face was covered by a black spot. A wavy, eerie black spot took seconds to increase its size and spawn more and more of itself. The image in Harry's eyes slowly got overrun by black spots, until his entire vision was covered in black. All the sounds faded away as well. All except one.

"Next time..."

* * *

**Harry Osborn's apartment, 3rd of March, 3:00 AM**

Gray ceiling was the first thing that now opened to Harry's vision. And the second was a wall in front of him, a wardrobe and a mirror next to it. The mirror showed him sitting on his bed, halfway covered in a blanket. The mirror reflected his glowing green eyes, shedding light back at him. Some of it was on a tannish brown-haired woman laying down behind him with her eyes closed.

"Liz...", Harry got up gently, producing as little noise as possible. He walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. The narrow living room had few things to ease its grim existence. A couch, a chest of drawers, and a TV. Harry took out some papers out of the drawer. He glanced over them, paper after paper throwing them back into the drawer. They had various tables and texts over it, but the recurring words were "bill", "tax", "rent". Empty spaces where numbers should be was another recurring feature of the papers. After putting all the papers back he took out a calculator and punched some buttons on it. Upon seeing the resulting number he threw the calculator behind himself. The sound of it crashing into a wall echoed through the whole room. Harry picked up a TV remote on the couch and pressed a red button. The TV flashed white for a couple seconds, then displayed a woman behind a table with a blue screen that contained the "Weasel News Network" logo behind her.

* * *

**TV News**

_New York's most prominent philanthropist and its finest businessman, Norman Virgil Osborn, has been reported dead this morning. It has been speculated that Oscorp will be under his biological son Harold Theopolis Osborn very soon. But the young Osborn should prepare for the pressure of running such an influential company equal only to Stark Industries..._

* * *

**Harry Osborn's apartment**

Harry hammered the red button as hard as he could. The TV obeyed and the picture disappeared, leaving only a black screen.

"Harry?", Liz's voice came out of the doorstep. She didn't come in, instead she just desperately tried to stare at Harry through her sleepy eyes. Harry was still sitting on the couch, covering his face with both hands, not reacting in any way to Liz. She closed her mouth with her hand to hide her sigh, then she sat by his side.

"Harry, what's wrong?", she wrapped her right arm around him. The hands covering Harry's face slid down. His face had an open smile with teeth clenched so hard on each other you can almost hear a screeching noise. His eyes were open wide, the small muscles around them intensified to the max.

"Oscorp... is mine...", his faint whisper was almost overridden by the wind from outside.

"We're saved.", his voice stuttered, but became louder. He turned to the side and his eyes faced Liz now.

"We're saved!", both of his arms were wrapped around her back, and he held her closely. Her eyes opened wide and she raised her arms. Her mouth was slightly open, the pupils in her eyes moved left and right.

"Tomorrow all our problems will disappear.", he closed his eyes, his voice once again became a whisper. After a couple moments, she wrapped her arms around him as well and smiled.

* * *

**Oscorp Tower, 3rd of March, 9:00 AM**

The sun was shining its utmost beautiful rays of light, not a single drop of a cloud was given to the sky that day. Some would consider such a weather amazing, but not Spider-Man, whose eyes were hit with the sun so hard he had to travel like he is now: with one hand closing his eyes and the other throwing web lines when the beeping stops. Occasionally he was also looking down on the rooftops and space around them. One more thing to note is a slight addition to his usual costume - a ball of web attached to his back to simulate the point of a backpack.

"This one will do just fine.", he zipped down in an alley nearby. It stretched out enough for three of Spider-Man to line up and was long enough to afford a ninety-degree turn at midpoint. Though Spider-Man still hid behind a large garbage bin. He then took out the web backpack and tore it apart. Clothes from the suit Tony Stark gave to Peter the day before fell out.

Three minutes later, Peter walked out of the alley, wearing that suit minus the tie and with unbuttoned jacket. He walked with his eyes closed because of what he used in his hand on all over of himself, the Axe body spray. As soon as he turned to the side he felt the sensation of inconvenience that follows with bumping into a blunt object.

"Ow...", he opened his eyes. The blunt object turned out to be a tall muscular man. His short blonde hair was almost hidden by a black cowboy hat, but his eyes were definitely hidden by large sunglasses resting on his fleshy nose. His square jaw, however, could not hide his wide half-open mouth even with stubble that could only be matched by hair on his chest. It was visible thanks to the black singlet and unbuttoned dark blue leather shirt over it. The rest of his clothing was black gloves with open fingers, dark blue leather pants, and black leather boots. He stepped aside a bit, popped his collar, and walked away from Peter.

"Could he be...", Peter watched the strange man slip into the crowd. "No, Parker, you're just paranoid."

After a few walks across the streets Peter found himself standing in front of the Oscorp Tower entrance. The double doors of said entrance were positioned in front of an enormous staircase, which in turn was in front of a parking lot.

"Hello, mister Parker, please forgive my less than stellar welcoming.", Donald Menken walked down the stairs. "I didn't expect you two to come over so early. I was going to send a limousine for you at the evening."

"You... two? What do you mean?", Peter walked with Menken to the entrance and discovered Mary Jane standing right in front of it. She wore a formal black dress and black shoes on high heels. She noticed Peter and smiled.

"Where would you be without me, tiger? Besides, I wanna see this too.", she grabbed Peter by his hand. They both headed towards Oscorp Tower's big double doors. The doors slid inside the walls they are attached to.

To say Oscorp Tower's main hall was big is to say Mortal Kombat was a tiny bit gory. It would be huge understatement, that is. The hall could fit a couple of houses inside of itself. Although it didn't seem for those inside. Hundreds of men and women in various uniforms, white and blue shirts, labcoats and combat vests. The beeps in Peter's head did not stop as person after person unwittingly invaded his personal space in their desperate struggle to obtain personal space of their own. Peter twisted his body to the side. Soon after, Mary Jane did the same.

"Ouch... we need to get to... higher floors...", for a few times, the quiet voice of Menken from behind was interrupted by noises resembling a blunt strike. He raised his hand, its pointer finger pointing at the escalators to the right. He then waved his hand around, pointing at all the escalators from all sides of the hall. The escalators led to glass-walled rooms, with desks and metal doors everywhere.

"Good idea...", said Mary Jane. She gently placed her hands on Peter's back. With a push from behind, Peter found himself facing a pillar at the centre of the hall. The mass of people avoided the pillar for the most part, so Peter caught a breath. Mary Jane, who attached herself to the pillar shortly after Peter, caught a breath as well. It took Menken slightly longer to do the same.

"What's the point of this pillar?", Peter looked up. That proved to be a bad idea, he immediately had to close his eyes due to them being struck with incredibly strong light.

"You shouldn't look up, mister Parker. The lamps up there provide light for about half of the tower. If you want better view of the statue, you need higher ground.", said Donald Menken. Peter and MJ both nodded their heads in perfect synchronization. After a few more dodging of the crowds, the three found themselves on the escalator. Peter looked at the pillar again. He saw that the pillar is very short, but wide. And the reason for that is a statue on it. But from that escalator, only the statue's feet and legs were visible.

"We'll take this one here.", Peter pointed at a large elevator with transparent walls, peaceful existence of which was within an equally transparent lift tunnel filled with enjoyment of being the only unattended one. The three of them stormed over to that elevator. Poor two people in lab coats standing in front of it were shoved aside like pins in bowling. Those people were Sable Manfredi and a short-haired redhead man in a lab coat with a badge that had "Dr. Stone" written on it. just sighed in cold acceptance, but Manfredi slowly raised her left hand with only the trembling pointer finger saved from the fate of being clenched into her palm.

In the elevator, everyone saw the floors one after the other. They all were filled with glass-walled rooms, the rooms themselves containing nothing more but small cells of office desks, forming one big office-themed hive on every floor. The statue was visible through the front door of the elevator, more and more of it as the elevator ascended. It was the statue of a man in a suit and tie standing with his hands behind his back. The elevator stopped and its doors opened on the highest identical floor. Peter walked out of the elevator without saying the word, he headed to the railings on the far end of that floor. He leaned his hands on the railings and rose his head. The lamps were shielded by the roof, so the statue's own head was visible. It was that of Norman Osborn. His head was uptight but the eyes looked down. His mouth was locked in a stone-cold frown, fitting for a statue. The head's enormity, like the entire statue's, could only be witnessed from that much height.

"It's hard to believe he wasn't always like this.", Menken spoke from behind. "There was a time when Norman Osborn was a bright, upstanding, shining example for all scientists."

"Shining? Did he use neon hair dye?", MJ also stood behind Peter.

"I understand your... contempt, but people aren't born insane. There was a time when this company was held together only by his willpower and scientific enthusiasm.", Menken adjusted his glasses a bit and pointed at another elevator to the right. "This way to the laboratories."

* * *

**Oscorp Tower Laboratories**

"N-no way!", Peter took a step back, almost going back into the elevator as it closed its doors and went down to be in peace with itself. What Peter was looking at was another massive hall, but instead of containing a large statue or being full of people, it had various devices placed on it.

"This is... awesome!", under Menken and MJ looking at each other with their best expressions of surprise Peter dashed to the nearest object, a conveyor belt within a glass chamber. Over the belt various pressure devices. A small terminal was attached to it, it had "Strength modes" list on it, with names of various people, highest name being "The Hulk".

"The impact stress analyzer, I've never seen one this polished! I can't wait to test how Spi... umm... normal combat armor is able to handle this baby!", Peter walked around it for about a minute until his attention turned to another piece of laboratory equipment. It was a glass sphere connected to a wall via a net of wires and tubes placed all over it. When Peter activated it by pressing a button on the wall, wind noises came from all sides of the sphere.

"Flight testing sphere! Perfect for testing a small manned airborne vehicle against rough weather!", Peter pressed his face against the glass, drilling the inside of it with his eyes alone.

"Like a Goblin glider...", Mary Jane's mumbling was left unheard thanks to the sphere.

"Hey, what's this?", Peter walked over to the closest table and picked up an orange device shaped like a futuristic gun.

"It's the ultimate foreign tech analyzer, but we just call it the Resenter. It allows us to scan data from other technology, and reverse engineer it with relative ease after putting it in that over there.", he pointed at the "that over there", which turned out to be a mass of data banks forming a "U" shape, in the centre of it being a towering system unit.

"Isn't that... stealing?", said Mary Jane.

"Well, there is only so much copyright law you can preach when Doctor Doom is unleashing his superweapon and you need to know how to stop it as soon as possible.", Menken fixed his own glasses.

"Let's see what's on the other floors... oh man, I'm just one step away from giggling.", Peter rushed to the nearest elevator, MJ rolled her eyes and followed him, Menken walked behind them without any expressions.

The other floors were always filled with scientific devices concealed within glass rooms. From big and intimidating construction complexes to small and humble biochemical labs with variously colored bio tanks. Each time Peter would notice and drool over a device, and each time MJ would stand aside, not taking part in the conversation. Menken also was relatively silent. That is, until the highest floor of the laboratories.

"I've been dreading this part of the tour.", Menken came out of the elevator first. In front of him, there was a small corridor with a metal door on the end of it. A number lock was present on that door.

"So, what's the combination?", Peter walked over to the number lock.

"Emily.", said Menken. The doors opened without Peter pressing anything on the lock. "That lock is just there for giggles."

The room was... smaller than most. Unlike other laboratories, it looked more like a storage with shelves on left and right. Shelves on the left were full of weapons such as bat-shaped pieces of metal, orange round grenades with various labels: "S", "I", "G", and "A", gas canisters labeled the same way the bombs were, boxes with "needles" written on them, and... a green rubber frog. Shelves on the right were reminiscent of wardrobes, containing purple leather gloves, purple leather boots, purple torn robes, green parts of bodysuits, and gray scaled shoulder pads. On the centre of the room a vehicle was stationed. It was shaped like a bird or a small plane, with grey metallic bat-like wings on each side with stirrups on the upsides and jet engines on the undersides, and a tube on the centre with a stylized dragon face on its front and a jet engine on its back. A small label on the vehicle's right wing said "Goblin Glider Mk10". But on the far end of the room was the biggest object. A glass chamber with several tubes connecting tanks of green liquid to it. Peter looked at it the last, and once he did, he froze in place, not saying a word.

"Yes... this is where the Goblin Serum enhanced his strength, agility, intelligence, and made his skin incredibly dense to the point of bulletproofing. It also made him see hallucinations and...", Menken spoke softly, his eyes were open wide and his mouth could barely contain a smile.

"People aren't born insane, huh...", Peter turned to the right and picked up a green leather mask. Under its purple cloth pointy hat it was shaped like a monstrous face. Yellow eye pieces, long ears and chin. But when that mask was held in Peter's hand, it's lack of a head on it made the hollow face look like it belonged to a freshly dead person. "Menken. Leave us and wait on the higher floor."

"Very well.", Menken stepped back into the elevator. Peter waited for the doors to close.

"I now know what I must do.", Peter put the Goblin mask on his hand. Mary Jane silently raised an eyebrow.

"I must become the Spectacular Spider-Goblin and declare war on Superman for changing my haircut!", Peter shouted with an echoing pounding voice attributed to villains such as Doctor Doom. Mary Jane instantly covered her face with both of her palms. But underneath one could hear her quietly whispering a laugh.

"Pfft. Let's go, MJ.", Peter threw the mask away from himself. Mid-flight it hit the glass chamber and landed on the floor face down.

* * *

**Oscorp Tower Board Of Directors**

"So when is he going to show up already? Your prodigy is late, Menken!", Jameson's rough and loud voice just bordered on echoing through the entire board room. He sat behind a large conference table, on a side chair closest to the door, and he just now smashed the aforementioned table with his fist, effectively spilling the coffee from the cup nearby on the Daily Bugle newspaper in front of him.

"Why are you rushing it, Jameson? Can't wait to see whose ass you have to kiss this time?" Directly opposite of him resided Sable Manfredi, holding a cup of tea in her right hand, occasionally taking a sip from it.

"I'll gladly kiss their ass if they finally put this cursed company to a good, productive, humane use!", with a gesture of a professional accuser Jameson pointed his finger at Sable.

"Umm... I'll be sure to remember that, I guess.", she lowered her hand to put the cup down, but after looking at the part of the table closer to Jameson, she pulled her hand with the cup back.

"If you two would let me speak...", Menken stood in front of the door and a little bit to the left.

"He requested to be in the research area for a moment and should arrive soon.", Menken heard footsteps from outside the room. "Ah! There he is."

The doors opened, and a man entered the room. The business suit that he wore had the color of washed-out green, and he himself had the brown and red Osborn haircut.

"Now that's just anticlimactic.", Jameson crossed his arms. "I demand a refund!"

"Menken, that's not a prodigy, that's just Harry Osborn.", Sable also crossed her arms.

"Hey, that was uncalled for.", Harry pulled the chair with a "C.E.O." label on it, and landed his backside on it. "Ok, so the first order of business is..."

"So this is the board room, huh? A bit too flat for my taste.", Peter entered the room with Mary Jane a step behind him.

"Peter, what are you doing here? And what's with your sudden shift in clothing style?", Harry looked at Peter's suit.

"This is incredibly awkward, but...", Menken cleared his throat by coughing. "But Peter Parker, as you two put it, is my prodigy."

"What?!", the collective exclamations of Jonah, and Sable were so loud one could swear a cracking sound was heard from the lamp on the ceiling.

"Now that's the sound of success if I ever heard one! Congratulations, my boy, and remember the man who toughened you up for this!", Jonah's yelling of surprise instantly changed to yelling of delight.

"W-what prodigy?", a quiet voice of Harry contrasted the loud yellings from before.

"Mister Osborn... that seat belongs to mister Parker.", Menken looked aside.

"No way... not this time...", Harry began with a trembling quiet tone, that slowly became louder. "Peter, tell them it's not true, please!"

"Harry, it's...", Peter walked further into the room. "Not true. Sure, it was offered to me, but I'm handing it over to you. It's Oscorp and it should belong to an Osborn."

"What?!", this time Jameson alone proclaimed the "what", so it was roughly eighty percent as loud. "You can't just give it up, it's a break you always deserved!"

"That was easy." Sable shrugged with her shoulders.

"Oh... phew.", Harry smiled for a bit, but then lowered his head. "He wrote you in his will, didn't he..."

"The necessary documents will be ready by tomorrow for you to sign.", Manfredi smiled to Peter.

"Good. Now excuse us, we're leaving.", Peter grabbed Mary Jane by the hand and walked away.

"Menken, stop him! That foolish fool is running from his dream!", Jameson stood up so fast his chair fell down on the floor, along with the poor cup from before.

"There is absolutely no need to worry.", Menken spoke in the same reserved, calm tone he always has. "Trust me."

* * *

**Outside Oscorp Tower**

"Are you sure about this?", Mary Jane walked behind Peter as they both exited the double doors of Oscorp Tower.

"Yes, I am.", Peter kept walking. "I won't play his game."

"Think of all the good you could do with this much fortune! Think of us! We can't live in that slum forever, we can't raise a child there!", Mary Jane walked faster and almost caught up to Peter.

"He wants you to think that! He wants you to think there is a hope spot, he wants you to let your guard down so he could take everything away from you! He is pure evil, and so is everything he's ever built!", Peter turned around to face MJ up close.

"He is dead, Peter! It's over, whatever he had in mind won't work, you can put this to good use, you can handle this power!", MJ put her hands on Peter's shoulders.

"I can't... it's too much.", Peter lowered his head.

"Peter... are you running away from power? Or from responsibility?", she lowered her head too, her tone becoming more quiet.

"No, I..."

"Beep, Beep"

"Who could that possibly be...", Peter picked up the phone.

"Hello, is this May Parker's nephew?", adult female voice was heard from the other side.

"Umm, yes. It's Peter Parker.", he nodded despite that having no bearing over a phone call.

"This is Queens Hospital Center speaking. Miss May Parker is hospitalized and your urgent presence is required."

* * *

**End Chapter Three**


	4. En Passant

**Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, no money is made off this, everything belongs to Disney and Marvel.**

Chapter 4: En Passant

**Queens Hospital Center, 3rd of March, 10:00 AM**

For this hospital, the day was like any other day. Little narrow corridors of the Queens Hospital Center shined via their beige ceiling sporting nice new lamps every few of its concrete squares. White doors on similar white walls contained numbers from "1" to "36". From these white doors, people sometimes came out, wearing white coats over various clothes. In an out of the rooms, in and out of the corridor. Until the door at the very end of the corridor gave a sound. A loud sound of a rock hitting a wall. And it managed to produce that sound well, despite being made primarily out of wood, by using the method of hitting a wall to its right. The sound resonated within the corridor, everyone turned their eyes to its source. The source expressed itself by adding footstep sounds to the entire atmosphere, and soon revealed itself to be Peter Parker and Mary Jane entering the corridor.

"Where is May Parker?", Peter still wore the gifted suit from before. Also repeating her attire from before, Mary Jane followed in.

"I ask you to please keep the noise down.", a woman voice was heard from somewhere. Then a door made a gentle, barely heard noise while opening and revealing the number "15" on itself. A blonde woman in the white coat walked in. Her badge said "Dr. Delaney". She had long blonde straight hair with a black headband on it. As soon as Mary Jane noticed the above feature, she turned her eyes to a nearby wall.

"Oh right, sorry.", Peter glanced behind himself. The door appeared normal at first, but on second glance the hinges held only loosely, the door was mere finger pokes away from detaching and falling flat.

"Strange.", Peter looked at his right palm and then mumbled. "Usually I can con..."

"This way, mister Parker.", Delaney went back into the room 15, Peter and Mary Jane followed her. They entered a small orange-walled room. It was a humble little room with a TV, a window, and a hospital bed. Wearing typical green patient uniform under a white blanket, aunt May was resting on that hospital bed.

"Could you excuse us, my dear?", aunt May smiled at Delaney. The blonde nodded, walked out of the room, and closed the door.

"Aunt May, are you alright?", Peter sat in a chair to her right. With his left hand, he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"I'm ok. I have heart problems every other minute. It's like my job or something.", aunt May let out a laugh, not too loud, but discontinuous.

"Don't joke about that!", Peter's voice bursted out. He waited for a moment, and then followed in a quieter voice. "Sorry."

"Peter, it's time we have a talk.", aunt May placed both of her hands on his right hand.

"About wha..."

"Sheesh! Don't interrupt an old lady during her heartfelt monologue." , aunt May raised her tone a bit. "Peter... I'm not eternal. One day, I won't be there, and you two will have to carry on together. Promise me, that you will."

For the next few minutes, the sound of cars moving outside was clear ,distinct and uninterrupted, no matter how quiet it was. Peter lowered his eyes, his gaze was centered on aunt May's veined, gnarled hands. Mary Jane opened her mouth, but after looking at Peter, she closed it back. Aunt May kept smiling at first, but then her smile slowly turned into a frown. She lowered her eyes as well, following with a deep sigh.

"And...", aunt May began with a near-whisper.

"Make some grandkids while you're both hot, will ya? Don't wait till you look like zombies!", but then her tone went through the roof commonly occupied by J. Jonah Jameson.

"Erm... we're... working on it.", Mary Jane scratched the back of her head, interrupting her words with laughter.

"You better be!", aunt May graced a nearby table with the full power of her fist. Though even if the table was alive enough to feel that, it wouldn't. Peter reacted to this by having his arms raised and his hands unclenched, the palms facing aunt May, and his eyes desperately trying to remind themselves which direction led to the door.

"We should go now...bye!", Mary Jane headed for the door.

"Yeah... take care, aunt May." Peter stood up and stepped forward to follow her, but felt a crashing noise. He looked down and identified the noise as the chair he's been sitting on, fallen and with a clear fist imprint on the top.

"What the hell is going on...", he whispered. Peter then picked up the chair, and followed Mary Jane out.

"MJ, I need to vent for a bit. I'll be back home in an hour.", immediately after saying that he walked over to the exit door. Mary Jane nodding went unnoticed. She quietly sighed and turned over to , who has been standing near the door to aunt May's room.

"When will the diagnosis be done?", Mary Jane kept her eyes at the closed door.

"Today, miss Parker. Though the symptoms appear harmless and common for people of old age, precautions are necessary.", said the blonde.

"Call me on this number when the diagnosis is done. Do not call Peter. He is under enough stress right now.", Mary Jane gave Delaney a card with a phone number written by pencil. The blonde nodded and put it in her pocket.

"Beep, beep"

Mary Jane reached to her phone, but when Delaney took out hers, it was clear that was the one ringing.

"Please excuse me.", she walked around the corner, and answered the phone.

"This is Queens Hospital Center, how can we be of service? Ah, yes, you called earlier. No, we don't know yet, but the diagnosis will be determined today."

* * *

**New York Streets, 3rd of March, 10:20 AM**

"In other news, fresh air earns itself another overwhelming victory against its longtime enemy known as the Dusty Suffocating Rooms!", Spider-Man passed a few windows holding a web line, the other end of which was at the very edge of a random rooftop. And not just on an edge. On an old gothic statue of a winged humanoid with bat ears and a chin that could might as well be another brick in the building. No one knows what its face was expressing, because the other end of Spider-Man's web line was attached directly to it. Or, at least, was a minute ago. The head of the statue emitted a happy sound of an M&Ms snapping in half. So the end of the web line descended with the head detached from the rest of the stone construction.

"And yes, I'm aware that I'm criticising something as "suffocating" while wearing a full spandex mask... huh?", he noticed his web line suddenly being wavy and weak, and himself in rapid travelling down. After throwing away the now useless web line, he stretched his arms to each side and fired a web line from each. The web connected with walls while Spider-Man continued his descent, The vertical motion finally ceased to affect Spidey right above the road, showing a random taxi driver a rather close view of his lower back area. But before the driver could shield his eyes from such a view, Spider-Man launched himself upwards via the makeshift slingshot of those two web lines.

"Whoa, whoa, whooooa", He found himself above the rooftops, waving his limbs for absolutely no reason. He found the closest respectable part of the walls he could find and attached the web line to it. The laws of physics then guided him right into the nearby window, but him letting go of the line in time assured that he stuck to the parts of the wall around that window, with only the line itself gently knocking on the glass. He shook his head and looked back on the headless statue that caused all this.

"Weird how it was attached to that and..." the sound of his own voice was overshadowed by beeps in his head. He quickly leaned back, standing on the wall with his two legs alone, as the sound of the glass breaking almost caught up with him. The bunch of lead pellets flew outside the window around the same time. Spider-Man returned to his initial position and saw what was inside.

"Face front, you indaving scoundrel!", inside there was an old man in a black suit with white stripes on it. He had receding white hair, large sunglasses, and a small moustache. And he also held a shotgun in his hands, and just now finished pulling the pump handle.

"Nuff said...", Spider-Man dropped down, letting another set of pellets shatter the window completely. Without another word, Spider-Man swung away.

"And stay out of my apartment, you villanous robber!" The old man looked out of the remains of his window. "Though I should remember his costume... that was some amazing design."

Spider-Man stopped swinging after a couple of streets passed. He attached himself to a nearby wall, just under the roof and above the highest window. He observed the thin space between the building he was on and the next, and the alley underneath.

"Oh look, a classic situation.", Spider-Man crawled around the corner of the wall and faced down. A blonde young woman in blue jeans and a white shirt walked into the alley, her walking speed higher than normal. Behind her was a man in ragged black pants and army camouflage trenchcoat. He had unkempt black hair that extended to his shoulders and a beard that touched his belt. Spider-Man detached his hands from the wall and aimed them down at the man, most of the fingers unclenched except for middle and ring fingers on each hand, which were half an inch away from touching his palm. The man began to pull a small knife from under his coat. At the same time, Spider-Man heard beeping noise in his head. Instantly the would-be attacker was pulled up by two lines of web attached to his shoulders. His knife fell on the ground, its noise made the woman turn around, look up, and run. Within a few short pulls the attacker found himself facing Spider-Man holding the lines and therefore him with one hand.

"I pulled the fluffy toy out on the first try!", said Spider-Man.

"You fu...", said the man before his mouth was shut with a short web projectile.

"Language, fluffy toy!", Spider-Man threw his captive over himself up onto the roof, and climbed over afterwards. The captive, after involuntarily performing a couple rolls, rose up to his feet. He then rushed directly at Spider-Man, fists swinging. Spider-Man covered his masked face with one palm and fired a web ball from another. The ball exploded into a net right before Spider-Man's opponent, the net pinned him to the ground completely. Spider-Man jumped down, firing a web line at the next building, as a very familiar sound emerged from his belt.

"Beep, beep".

"Hello?", Spider-Man picked up the phone while swinging.

"Peter...", Mary Jane's voice on the other end was interrupted by the sound of sobbing.

* * *

**New York Streets, 3rd of March, 10:00 AM**

The entrance to Queens Hospital Center was surrounded by cars. The cars were small, barely fit for two people. They were also covered with dirt stains, and the smoke of their engines almost covered the cars themselves. The center's front door opened. A black-haired woman in a black trench coat over her black dress came out. Immediately the doors on all cars were opened and men with cameras came out, as if it was her who gave them a signal. Not even the big sunglasses the woman were could protect her from the sight of flashing lights of those cameras directed at the hospital. One of the men, holding a microphone in one hand and his camera in other, approached the woman.

"Is it true that Mary Jane Parker is in this very hospital?", he pointed the microphone in her direction. Without looking at him, she shook her head. Two other men approached her with cameras, but she walked away, waving her hands at thin air as if she was trying to scare away flies. After walking some steps she turned around. The men stopped paying attention to her, instead invading the hospital's front door, until men in dark blue uniforms with "Security" written on them came out. In the epic battle of security versus paparazzi, privacy prevailed and the invaders were kicked out. Not willing to wait where they would go next, the woman dashed around the corner. Some red hair showed up underneath the black hair, and the sunglasses loosened down, under a certain angle showing the eyes of Mary Jane.

"Phew, that was close.", she pulled the red hair back and fixed her glasses. After which she walked over to the newspaper booth nearby. She threw the necessary price in coins and picked up the Daily Bugle newspaper. The front page had a photo of Spider-Man mid-leap on a rooftop with the headline saying "Spider-Man on the run!" in large black letters and underneath there was "New York's Last Remaining Super Villain Still At Large!". And the article itself was nothing but Jameson's barely coherent rambling, pushing limits on the curse words volume allowed for a mainstream newspaper. Mary Jane flipped page after page, each talked about various subjects from post-mortem overview of Norman Osborn's life to strange disappearances of sewer workers. But page seven caught Mary Jane's interest.

* * *

**Page Seven**

_Headline: Mary Jane Parker continues to fall?_

_As many of you are aware, the once famous supermodel and actress Mary Jane Watson, now Mary Jane Parker, has left the modeling and acting business due to an incident with her producer. That incident has left her unable to continue the modelling career, so she applied as a writer in Reboot Comics. However, many of their regular comic readers have been unsatisfied with her performance. The Reboot Comics's former editor will be joining us to find out why. He requested to be named Q for the remainder of this interview. It is important to note that his opinion is not necessarily endorsed or even agreed with by the Bugle. So, Q, what happened?_

_Q: Well, miss Parker's run has been problematic from the start, honestly. Many comics today feature a single superhero. Not in a "without a team" sense, a team is fine, but in a relationship sense. The way it has been in my day, and the way it should always be._

_Bugle: And I presume, Mary Jane's run was different?_

_Q: Yes, quite. It has run into the stagnation a superhero in a stable relationship runs into. Many writers have found it impossible to write any meaningful drama to a married superhero, and rightfully so. Marriage is the end of life, blistering into mundanity no self-respecting reader wants to read about. What can you possibly write with it? The wife of the hero getting kidnapped all the time? Sitting there worrying? Or even worse, imagine poor kids watching their mom and dad argue and then reading their role model argue with some woman in a same way. It defies escapism._

_Bugle: However, from what I've heard, many readers expressed distaste over the previous subplots of relationships, under your editorship as well, which they have found, and I quote, "repetitive pointless copy-paste flowchart plots, that never go anywhere, and are only there to tease the gullible new readers"._

_Q: Well, some people are less understanding than others, I'm afraid. Appreciation is hard to come by. The point of a hero without a stable relationship is uncertainty. You'll never know who they'll end up with, and it's up to you to guess or even pick the favourites, leading to many discussions between fans on who is the better match for a hero. Instead, miss Parker decides she knows better than our readership by marrying the hero off. And every writer from there on has to be content with a single relationship and avoid juicy drama you can have with many? That's some, forgive the frivolity, major arrogance._

* * *

**New York Streets**

"I'll show you arrogance, you pompous twat!", her hands both squeezed the paper from the sides so hard, it started to look like a big bowtie. But not for long, because same fate awaited the up and down sides of the paper, thus turning it into a crumpled little ball. Then the ball was tossed into the nearest trash can with the ferocity and hate of a pumpkin bomb. And, as if to seal the coffin, a bystander threw his used cigarette into the same can. Mary Jane watched the resulting fire with a smile channeling her best Cheshire Cat impression. The fire soon ceased itself, so Mary Jane continued her walking, her own whistling of a happy tune accompanied her.

Until ten minutes later. The streets continued and continued going into the horizon as if the land of New York City stretched into infinity. What doesn't, however, have infinity, is the strength of Mary Jane's legs. Strength to endure direct sunlight set to fry, crowded walks which make Frogger a down-to-Earth game, and cars looking like they are trying their damn hardest to kill someone. So she leant on a wall, gasping for breath.

"This wall... is friendly and everything... but I do need to go.", Mary Jane took a couple steps in the usual direction, but her eye was caught by an alley. An alley providing a shortcut. An alley with beautiful sun-free shadows. Without other pedestrians or cars. Mary Jane jumped into the alley, almost knocking a pedestrian in front of her over. Whatever opinion about it he had was ignored by Mary Jane walking down the alley as fast as possible. However, there is a reason most people choose the street, despite its overwhelming disadvantages.

"Hey pretty face, wanna have some good time?", behind her, Mary Jane heard a tedious, dragging voice of a man. She turned around and saw a man in torn up dusty leather clothing. With his left hand he stroked the bloodstained baseball bat he had in his other hand.

"Yeah, we'll dance ya real hard.", another voice similar to the first one came from the other side. Mary Jane pushed her back to the side of the alley wall, and got a quick glance on the source of the second voice, being another man in similar clothing, but holding a machete that is soon should be discarded due to rust gathering on the blade.

"Who talks like that?", in Mary Jane's voice there was no worrying, no shade of discomfort at all. "Whatever, I don't have time for this."

"W-what? What do you mean?!", the man with the bat sounded like a little child who was just told his water pistol wasn't threatening. Both men raised their weapons above their heads and slowly walked towards MJ. Until a loud sound of a gun happened, followed by top piece of the baseball bat falling to the ground and its wielder trying to grasp what's going on by looking at the bottom piece of the bat that remained in his hand. The other man with the knife was already on the other end of the alley, running away and screaming in terror. And Mary Jane still stood there, except for her stretched out left hand and the Beretta 92F pistol in that hand angled right above the batter's head. The barrel of Mary Jane's gun emitted a small trail of smoke. Mary Jane's left hand started to lower, now aiming at the batter's head.

"No... please!", he fell on his back, losing the other part of the bat out of his hands. Mary Jane's gun was still dead set on him, her hand holding it steady and without twitching.

"Chameleon. Alistair Smythe. Hydro-Man. Styx and Stone. White Rabbit. Swarm. Hobgoblin. There have been so many... masks of all kind, thinking I was just another "girl" for them to threaten and harass." Mary Jane slowly pulled back the hammer of her gun. "Well, ask yourself... what happened to them?"

The former batter shook his head violently, then turned tail and ran out of the alley, Mary Jane's laugh still following him right up to the police car, to which he begged surrender. Mary Jane returned her gun back to the inside of her coat.

"Beep, Beep"

"Hello?", she picked up the phone. The conversation lasted a minute, after which Mary Jane closed her mouth with her hand, and tears came out of her eyes. Slowly, she dialed the number of Peter.

"Peter...", she said, sobbing.

* * *

**New York Streets, 3rd of March, 10:25 AM**

"A-are you sure?!", Spider-Man stood on a rooftop, holding the phone and speaking with his mask half-open. "It can't be true, they must have mistaken, something, some kind of a mistake, anything!"

"I'm sure... it's true... I'm sorry.", Mary Jane whispered.

"I have to see her!", instinctively he swung a fist to the side which knocked off a chunk of the wall next to the rooftop door.

"She will be under treatment during visiting hours... we can't.", Mary Jane still sobbed.

"Goddamn it! Can't even see her!", his loud voice caused some confusion to the flat underneath the rooftop, he could hear mumbling. "She could have cancer and I can't even be there for her!"

"Maybe they can cure it...", said Mary Jane.

"Yeah, right, they can cure the kind of cancer most people don't even know exists, and the kind the very treatment of which can damage her already weakened heart. It's heart cancer! She... she can't survive this!" Spider-Man took a deep breath. "Alright, gotta calm down... let's meet up home and think about this."

"Okay.", Mary Jane hung up the phone. Spider-Man put it back into his belt. He then fell on his knees and covered his head with both of his hands, pulling the rest of the mask back down.

"It's misdiagnosis... they must have mistaken the symptoms, and listed it as one of the possibilities, but not certainty. Please... let it be misdiagnosis.", he mumbled whispers through his hands.

* * *

**Peter's Apartment, 3rd of March, 10:40 AM**

Spider-Man landed in front of the bedroom window. From his belt, he took out a key, applied to the outside lock, and opened the window. Till now, he didn't look inside. He should have.

"What the...", the bedroom was not a pretty sight before, but it could pass as one compared to its present state. The bed was broken in half and stained with something green. The pillows and bed sheets were torn apart, their pieces scattered throughout the bedroom. The wardrobe had its doors detached and missing, probably thrown out of the window. The costumes inside were as well torn in a ways that resemble various wounds. Cuts, bullet wounds, burns, and so on. Mary Jane stood on the other end of the room, her eyes wide and her mouth closed with her hand. Spider-Man picked up an object under him. It was a small pumpkin. Eyes identical to the eyes of Spider-Man's mask were carved on it, an open mouth angled downwards as well. A flag was stabbed into the top of it. In black letters it had written: "Gotcha". A split second passed. Orange stains were added to the room and Spider-Man's own clenched fist. The pieces of the pumpkin and the flag fell on the floor.

* * *

**Outside Oscorp Tower, 3rd of March, 5:10 PM**

"Goodbye, mister Menken.", a man raised his cap. His black uniform said "Security" on the back and his cap was also of the black color. Menken walked past him, without saying a word, instead only holding tightly to his briefcase as he upped the pace to his neon green car. That is, until something made him stop. Slowly he was pulled up from behind. A quick turn around by his head saw Spider-Man on the tower wall, pulling a web line with both of his heads, said web line attached to Menken's gray jacket.

"Spider-Man?!" The security guard quickly whipped out his Glock 17 pistol and pressed the trigger in a fast erratic manner. Most of the bullets went into the windows around Spider-Man and stayed there, save for one, which travelled right through Spider-Man's web, cutting the line. Spider-Man fired a web ball into the guard's gun, tying up both of his hands and the Glock itself. By that time, Menken threw the briefcase into his car, and jumped into it, at the same time using one of his hands to hold web line still attached to him and the other to cut it with a knife. With precision and swiftness he unlocked the engine and stepped on the gas pedal.

The car dashed away like a green rocket. Spider-Man saw that and jumped forward, firing a web line to a distant building. Menken turned left and right on the road, creating a wavy driving pattern that evaded all cars on the road. Spider-Man launched himself forward and used both of his hands to fire two web balls at Menken's car. Menken, who had his eye on the rear view window, turned to the left just enough so the seat on his right and a part of the road took the hit. The Oscorp tower's shadow eventually stopped the sun from obstructing the view, and the rear view reflected that, now allowing only to see the dark silhouette of Spider-Man.

"Police, help me, I'm locked in a car chase with Spider-Man behind me on the road to Oscorp Tower, he's after me!", Menken yelled into his phone, holding the wheel with one hand.

A four-way turn was just seconds away. Even the dark image of his predator showed that Spider-man was about to use his left hand for next web line. Menken threw the phone away and spinned the wheel with both hands, holding it so hard and tight his hands were just about to bleed, and his car engaged in a tight ninety-degree turn to the right. Spider-Man initially turned left via the web held by his left hand, but quickly let go of it, and fired two web lines at the buildings standing there as borders to the road Menken went through. The lines launched Spider-Man forward, with added velocity of him holding his arms and legs close together, looking like a sky torpedo. He then stretched his arms and began to fire small web balls. The swarm of web projectiles hit all over Menken's car, including all the seats with the exception of Menken's driver seat, and both rear view windows. Menken turned his head around, watching Spider-Man still unload the rapid fire of web into the car. He made a small strafe to the left, and then one to the right. The little web bullets hit either the ground or the doors of Menken's car. Eventually Spider-Man was just about to hit the ground. He stopped firing the machine webfire, instead throwing a web line and swinging on it with both hands.

"Phew...", Menken turned his eyes to the road. Then his eyes widened and his mouth opened. He was rapidly storming right into a big row of cars in front of a red traffic light. At the last second he pulled the wheel so hard it was on the verge of detachment, and his car travelled to the right, invading the pedestrian part of the road. People around Menken ran and screamed as he squeezed his car in just barely and drove forward, causing collision sparks with both the wall and other cars, the latter also allowing their drivers to express their curse vocabulary.

The chase ended with a crashing noise. The car immediately stopped, Menken found his nose, along with the rest of his head still attached to his body, in close contact with the safety airbag. And the back of his head strangely wet. He looked up and saw a large upward stream of water, right in front of him. At its bottom end there was the smashed front of his car and a deformed red fire hydrant. Menken turned to his briefcase and pulled it. But the webs all over the briefcase had other ideas. Menken took out the knife and sliced the first web off. He reached out for the second, but his arms couldn't move. He saw lines of webs surrounding his entire torso, and grabbed the briefcase just in time when he was pulled back by Spider-Man sitting on the opposite wall. The knife, abandoned by everyone, fell somewhere on the car. Slowly, Spider-Man pulled Menken up to the point of holding him within arm length distance.

"What do you want?", said Menken through his clenched teeth. Spider-Man silently swinged further down the street with his one hand, holding Menken with his other hand. The blurring image of motion buried itself into Menken, specifically his stomach. He closed his eyes and his mouth.

He couldn't tell how much time passed, but eventually he felt the sensation of falling down, and then the touch of a blunt object on his head, along with hearing the sound of his briefcase experiencing same troubles. He opened his eyes and found himself on an unknown rooftop, far away from Oscorp Tower. In front of him lay scattered pieces of his glasses. His face was full of small bruises, his nose bled from both nostrils, and his hair looked like animal fur after a mud bath. Spider-Man stood over him, like a colossus, a statue constructed to tower over people without as much as flinching and convey the message of their eternal weakness.

"I ask you again...", Menken coughed. "What do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want.", Spider-Man's voice was cold and sharp as a sword.

"If I did, there would be no point in asking.", Menken breathed heavily, but with each second his breath resembled normal human breath more and more.

"Don't play snarkers with me.", Spider-Man grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. Parts of Menken's shirt tore up from such pressure.

"Why, you don't like competition?", said Menken, right after which Spider-Man slammed him back into the roof. Menken screamed with pain, and after that his breath intensified again.

"You will talk now.", Spider-Man pulled him close again.

"About what? Weather in London? The Les Miserables movie? My favourite food? Give me the subject...", Menken was interrupted with a punch to the stomach, making him scream again.

"Other than her family, you were the last person to visit May Parker, an aunt of my friend Peter Parker. He was just recently offered to replace your dead monster of a boss, and refused. Then, right after that, his aunt conveniently develops heart cancer and his apartment is vandalized with clear Goblin evidence. Someone arranged this, and you will tell me who.", Spider-Man unclenched his hands, and thus Menken fell on the roof again, losing grip on his briefcase.

"What do you mean "who"...", Menken whispered quietly.

"And what's here?" Spider-Man picked it up and began to open it. Both the briefcase and his head started to beep, with red light in the former and red outlines in the latter.

"Throw it away, it's primed to...", right after Menken's words Spider-Man tossed the briefcase into the sky. It exploded in a massive blast, and several small blasts after that, in a flash of light strong enough to make both Menken and his interrogator close their eyes for a bit.

"...do that.", said Menken right after the explosion was done.

"Now why would it do that?", Spider-Man turned over to Menken.

"Transfer papers were in there. Your... friend, refusing the position, ordered those transfer papers. But until they are actually filed, anyone can kidnap me like you just did and take them for themselves. I can almost see Kingsley or Fisk rising up from the dead for these papers. I could not take that chance.", Menken tried to stand up, but could only sit on his knees.

"As for May Parker's condition, I know nothing about it. I just found out about it from you. Not all of us are involved in Evil McVillain business, I'm just an executive. Besides, cancer doesn't work like that... I don't expect a brute like you to understand, through.", Menken's voice once again caused Spider-Man to grab him by the collar and over the edge of the rooftop, stopping just seconds from throwing him away.

"I'm something of an expert on terminal velocity.", Spider-Man held Menken by right stretched arm, his hand wrapped around Menken's neck. "Wisecrack at me again, and you'll know its effects firsthand."

"You kidnap me in the middle of the street, wreck my car, destroy important documents, hurt me, and I don't even say thank you, oh the nerve of mine!.", Menken wiggled his legs and grabbed Spider-Man's hand by both of his own, gasping for breath.

"You were his right hand man. He commanded the biggest chemical and weapons manufacturing corporation on this side of Stark Industries. He once made a DNA bomb that melted people. Giving cancer is nothing to him. Also, anything he had in mind before his death would come straight to you. And then... to whom?", Spider-Man tightened the grip on Menken's neck.

"I know nothing...", Menken spoke through choking. "...about this. I swear..."

"Release that man now!", Spider-Man heard a voice amplified by a loudspeaker. It grabbed his attention, and so did the street, which was now surrounded by five police cars, with officers behind them all priming their weapons.

"Please...", Menken's lack of air reduced him to a whisper. "I know nothing..."

With a growl, Spider-Man threw Menken back on the roof. Bullets flew all around him as he ran away and fired a web line. Once again Menken let out a scream from falling, and began to cough. But slowly his cough faded, and laughter emerged instead.

"The preliminary conditions...", Menken's face expressed a thin little smile. "...have been met."

* * *

**The Bar With No Name, 3rd of March, 6:25 PM**

"Gimme more!", a voice so strangely old, you can almost hear the sound of dust falling when the mouth is open. And it wouldn't be such an unbelievable occasion, when you look at the face of the one speaking. It was a man, that much could be determined. But his face... it was a questionable matter of him even having a face. Dark red substitute for skin just barely covered his skull, his teeth always uncovered on the left side thanks to missing lips, and his nose being just a hole. His eyes grabbed themselves the last remains of real skin this man had, producing an effect of him wearing a mask, giving very human eye expressions. Long black curly hair loosened from the back of his head, looking like an unwrapped traditional Chinese queue. His black hoodie made the hair hard to distinguish from itself, though. He sat his blue-jeaned arse on a dusty chair right in front of the bar stand, His hands sported orange gloves, one of them also had a beer glass with stains of foam, but otherwise empty.

"Don't you think you've had enough?", the classic multi-accented voice of a stylish bartender in a smoking and shiny glasses. Behind him he had a collection of empty bottles, with labels that can no longer be read. Around him was a simple bar room, chairs and tables duct taped together, spider webs in the corner, and a jukebox with the next musical hit of all abandonment - static.

"I've had a rough day. When I say "more", I mean m, o, r, and e. So deliver!", he slammed his near-empty glass against the bar stand. The resulting sound made the bartender cringe, along with the rest of the bar's attendants, if there actually were any attendants.

"I'm sure you did, my good customer...", the bartender took his cup and calmly refilled it with fresh beer.

"Job got botched... those damn idiots weren't good for anything. If only I had my old stuff...", the man in a hood raised the glass and unloaded all its contents right into his throat, a sizable part of it spilling from the left right on his clothes.

"Sadly, wearing a colored mask is a road straight to the grim one nowadays.", the bartender took his glasses off and applied some tissue on them.

"Yeah... I hear ya.", leaving the cup in the state of only foam again, the visitor left it on the stand and began to walk away.

"Sigh... on the house, as always. You would think a man with his toys could at least afford beer...", the bartender whispered the second sentence. His visitor exited through the door, causing the small bell to ring, and walked away.

After roughly ten minutes passed, the bell rang again.

"Yes, how can I help you?", the bartender looked at the next visitor only after he said that sentence. "Huh?"

"I need some information.", Spider-Man stood right in front of the bar stand. "Word is, a new Goblin is in town. I need to know if anyone actually seen him."

"Haven't seen any goblins.", the bartender wiped stains from his glasses without signs of stress. "Really, this place hasn't been visited by supervillains for years. Obvious reasons, you know."

"These.", Spider-Man pointed at the stains on the stand, chair, and floor. "You had a visitor. Just now."

"That? A washed-out hob... homeless person.", the bartender shrugged with his shoulders.

"Hmm...", Spider-Man examined the floor. The stains continued all the way to the door. "Thanks anyway."

"You sure you don't want something?", said the bartender just as Spider-Man was heading to the door.

"I don't drown my sorrows. I solve them.", Spider-Man opened the door

Somewhere far from the bar, there was an alley. The hooded man leaned against said alley's walls, one of his orange gloves was in the hoodie's pocket. The hand that lacked the glove looked perfectly normal. A cigarette rested in that hand.

"What's up, Jack? Or should I call you Jason?", the hooded man heard the voice from above. Upon raising his head he saw Spider-Man sitting on the opposite wall, his arms lay comfortably on his thighs.

"Do I look like I care? Go harass someone else, bugface." Jason tossed his cigarette away.

"I hear Kentucky Fried Supervillains is really successful among law enforcement.", Spider-Man jumped down.

"What do you want?", Jason put the orange glove in his pocket back on.

"A new Goblin is in town. You with your... hobby, could know about that."

"Look at me.", Jason pulled his hood down. "I took, what was it, ten thousand volts to my face? I'm the only one allowed to plagiarise Green Goblin, he said. And then kaboom! Didn't even bother to check if I was dead. Now look at me. Face out of the cheap horror flick, and clothes stained in piss they call beer. Do I look like the fearsome fucking Goblin to you?"

Spider-Man deeply sighed. A slow, lazy backhand from him knocked Jason down. Then Spider-Man jumped up without saying a word.

"Asshole...", while lying on the ground, Jason reached out for something in his pocket. It was a small phone with a green screen and cracks on it. Jason dialed a number on it, having to curse because some buttons refused to work right away.

"Tomorrow night, we do this again. And this time, do your fucking jobs."

* * *

**Queens Hospital Center, 3rd of March, 8:00 PM**

Spider-Man was swinging through the storming bullets of water. Every five minutes, he had to close his eyes or risk losing his eyesight from lightning. He could just as well travel with his eyes closed at this point. The thought of where to go left him long ago. Just like Menken and Jason, all his leads were failures.

"But who could this be? Roderick Kingsley, the first Hobgoblin, is either dead or living his last days somewhere in Caribbean. Harry? He doesn't have it in him. Morally and, let's face it, intellectually. Nobody else is even worth mentioning."

Spider-Man landed on a roof. When lightning struck yet again, he could swear he saw an image. Of a monster's face, twisting its disgusting lips in a grin.

"Norman... he's dead. This time, for sure, he's dead. He has to be. This plot needs him dead.", Spider-Man began to crawl down the wall. From a window below he saw his aunt May on the hospital bed, her eyes closed, herself attached to machines of all kind.

"Aunt May...", he whispered so quietly, the rain could be heard better.

He crawled around the window, and sat on its left, covering his masked face with his hands.

"Aunt May... remember that one time you invited Doctor Octopus home and called him your sweetheart? Oh, my face when I heard and saw that, it was priceless. Or when you forced Wolverine to stop smoking at our house and the poor furball struggled to grasp what just happened?", Spider-Man laughed through tears.

"I'll save you...", he began to speak, but the beeping sound in his belt overrode his speech. He took out the phone.

"Yes?"

"Peter, it's me...", Mary Jane's voice just barely defeated the rain in volume. "We need somewhere to sleep tonight."

"Aunt May's.", said Spider-Man without hesitation.

"Huh? But..."

"Better than the other option. I won't give him the satisfaction."

* * *

**Aunt May's Home, 3rd of March, 8:20 PM**

Spider-Man could make this path while asleep. Even down to exact number of houses he had to jump over. The old window leading to his room from upstairs was present there, untampered with over the years. He opened it, as always, and jumped into the room. His costume began to drop rain water right on the floor, like it used to in the old days and him later making up excuses to aunt May. It all was the same as before. The Albert Einstein picture on the door, the body-height mirror, the desks, and most importantly, the bed. Spider-Man fell on it, while still wearing his costume. The whisper of blissful rest invaded his brain, and his eyes finally closed...

When he opened them, he found that the bed was surprisingly dry. None of the rain water he brought with him even left a stain. In fact, the room looked bigger. Or could the sunlight coming through the window warp his perspective?

"Peter, dear, it's breakfast time, get down here.", aunt May's voice.

"What the...", first his eyes widened at aunt May's casual voice and presence, then at his own voice.

His voice cracked. And when he looked at the mirror, he saw his 16-year-old self.

* * *

**End Chapter Four**


	5. Say Castling

**Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, no money is made off this, everything belongs to Disney and Marvel.**

**Street Fighter 2 belongs to Capcom, by the way. Yes, this is relevant.**

Chapter 5: Say "Castling"

**Aunt May's Home, 7:35 AM**

They say breakfast has to be the most food-filled time of your day. That right after sleep the body gathers the necessary energy and then acts less demanding about other eating, should you treat it properly. But even by that standards, what was on the table in front of Peter Parker was a bit much. Big plates of scrambled eggs with bacon, a box of cereal with a cartoon bat mascot, a big sandwich, a glass of fresh orange juice, and a vegetable soup. So really, a typical Spider-Man breakfast. Normally, Peter Parker would munch through it in a time that would take a normal man to reconsider his eating habits.

But right now, all Peter could do is sit still and exercise blank staring into the vegetable soup. In his mind, pieces of the puzzle were swimming in a jar, clashing together occasionally due to someone shaking the jar thinking they are funny. His face reflected in the soup, that sixteen-year-old face of his. What is going on, he thought. Is it a dream, is it a hallucination, a spell, is he inside a trap, did he travel through time? At the top of his head, he could name several villains who could be responsible for such a trick. Such as a rather unimaginably named enemy of Doctor Strange called Nightmare.

Wake up, he thought. Wake up now, come on, wake up. Please.

"Why aren't you eating?", the question cut his trail of thought short, dictating his reflexes to raise his head and pay attention to it.

"Sorry... aunt May.", there she was. Perfectly fine, still having that motherly smile. He turned his eyes away from her, instead looking at the window, despite it not being much of a view. That happens to windows when they are overrun with snow.

"You have an important test tomorrow, don't you wanna prepare? I know you'll probably ace it even if you were hanging upside down above a pool infested with robot sharks while the rest of the room was on fire, but still...", she wanted to continue the sentence, but wide eyes and fully open mouth on Peter's face stopped her.

"S-stop watching movies, aunt May, please.", he spoke in a tone fitted for a beggar desperate for some change.

The silence continued for about two minutes.

"Yeah... I'll just go.", Peter stood up, only to have aunt May push him down by his shoulders. "Huh?"

"Young man, you are not going anywhere without breakfast."

* * *

**New York Streets, 8:00 AM**

"Why didn't my sixteen-year-old self... kof... think of thermal clothing? I was a complete... kof... idiot.", Spider-Man's voice couldn't be heard even if one was swinging right next to him. It'd still be covered under the noise of countless snowflakes around him, this relentless army of snow throwing everything it can at things in air, dropping them down. Even at his usual rather fast swinging speed, Spider-Man found himself baggaging a thick layer of snow all over his suit of tights, only an occasional cough throwing it away from his head. Naturally, he could only see what was ahead by a couple meters, everything else disappearing in the blizzard as if he was in a videogame with a very low draw distance setting. So most of the time the sounds he heard were beeps of his own spider-sense. Until, after a crashing noise, he fell on something that felt like a floor.

"Ow... though to be perfectly honest, I didn't really feel that. Guess Arctic Batman was on to something after all...", he jumped and performed a somersault in mid-air. All the snow on him flew away, landing on various walls in the room. Upon landing, he looked around the room. It was nothing but wooden walls, wooden floor, and wooden ceiling. Apart from the large window that got him into this room, it was completely empty.

"Heh... could have sworn this is Doctor Strange's address.", he put his palms vertically on each side of his mouth. "Doc! I need help! I'm kind of stuck in the past somehow and you happen to have a Ph.D in Weirdology! Doc? Hello?"

The room was silent, save for Spider-Man's own echoing voice and snow falling through the now open window.

"Out of town... of course he is out of town. Anytime you need a certified sorcerer, or any other superhero to handle your problem other than yourself, they are always out of town, out of planet, or vacationing in some alternate dimension that has cheaper high-quality pizzas." Spider-Man turned around. "Oh well, I'll just..."

Before he could finish his sentence, he had to note that the sky now was clear. Not a sight of snowfalls plaguing the window hole like they did before.

"...go...", second try at finishing the sentence failed again. A sound that came from the open window hole froze Spider-Man stronger than any snow could. To many others, the sound could be mistaken to that of a small plane, or a rocket. But not for Spider-Man. He knew the sound bit by bit better than anyone.

"You!", he leapt out of the broken window. As if the whole of reality suddenly stopped, he could see what appeared on his left clear as a still picture. On the grey winged rocket, imagining itself as a dragon, he stood, his purple boots on each of the grey dragon's wings. He would call it a glider. His body was fully green due to the leather armor he wore. Purple gloves and a sleeveless robe that ended just a bit below his waist. The scaled shoulder pads on his, well, shoulders, and a brown bag using its belt to hang on one of those shoulder pads. His face was a green leather mask with long ears, chin, and nose. A cloth hat of color purple was on it, and through its yellow eye pieces one could see the man's true eyes, matching the mask perfectly. The mask formed a grin, the teeth from his own mouth assisting it. Spider-Man swung his fist horizontally, so it would eventually collide with the grin and wipe it off him.

The only thing he hit, though, was air. The cruel gods of inertia and gravity pulled him down, but Spider-Man outsmarted them by zipping himself to a wall, belonging to the same building he just jumped from. After coughing for a couple of seconds due to the trail of smoke, he was finally able to see the glider turning around, flames burning under each of its wings. Its owner was slightly crouching.

"Green Goblin... figures. I guess I can make my predicament better by slapping your airborne butt around.", the Goblin did not react to Spider-Man's words yet, but he put his hand into the brown bag of his. Out he pulled three orange grenades and hurled them towards Spider-Man.

"My, I detect relief in that statement!", the Goblin spoke in a high-pitched voice, his tone having occasional notes appropriate for a synthetic being. "Have you missed me?"

"I suppose in a sense.", Spider-Man backflipped, ascending himself on the wall. All the bombs turned into green clouds of gas below him. A shrieking sound could be heard from each of them. "One likes to go back to a steady arch-nemesis after a hard day of pummeling other bad guys."

"Then allow me to exclaim "Honey, I'm home!"", the Goblin stretched both of his arms forward and clenched his fists, except for the pointer fingers. The fingers shot yellow blasts of energy.

"Tone down the subtext, Gobs!", Spider-Man twisted his upper body to the side. Both of the Goblin's blasts left burn marks on the wall. "You're old, you're creepy, and your hair is stupid!"

Spider-Man fired a web line directly at the Goblin. As soon as it stuck to his chest, Spider-Man jumped forward, pulling the line back at the same time. The Goblin tilted his Glider so the flames would pull it away from Spider-Man, stabilizing himself. Spider-Man flew towards him, ready to thrust the Goblin's head in with a straight fist, and when he did...

The Goblin redirected the fist away with one of his own, his other hand caught Spider-Man's neck. Yellow sparks emitted from that hand. Soon, bigger yellow sparks flew through Spider-Man's entire body. Spider-Man screamed as electricity tore holes all over his costume, leaving burn marks and smoke rising up. Spider-Man struggled for a bit, but when electricity stopped flowing through his body, so too he became still, hanging in the air by the hand of his much taller enemy.

"Well, my favourite anonymous foe, let's see if your hair is any better.", he grabbed Spider-Man's mask and began to pull it.

But his own mask found itself buried under the webbing due to Spider-Man suddenly raising both of his arms and firing thick nets of web. Sparks emitted from the Goblin's glove once more. Spider-Man used both of his feet to send the Goblin flying backwards, leaving torn parts of the neckpiece Spider-Man's costume in one hand, and his mask in another. Spider-Man began to fall down, aiming one hand on his mouth and another on his forehead. Two webshots created a makeshift web mask. Spider-Man followed that with swinging away on his web line.

The Goblin put Spider-Man's mask and torn piece of costume in his bag. Out of the bag his hands came out with metallic razor wings, resembling shape of a bat except with a round orange centerpiece with a pumpkin symbol engraved on it. He held four of those bat-wings on each hand, between fingers. With a motion normally used to tear down newspapers he launched the weapons from both his hands. They spun in air, starting to look like spinning discs of metal. It didn't take long for those two clouds of metal weapons, four in each and flying directly one after the other, to reach Spider-Man.

"Oh, the rip-offs. My favourite.", he said with sincerity of a politician. He jumped and turned around mid-air, rapid-firing web balls at the cloud of metal bats with his one hand, swinging the web line with the other. A few of the bats got wrapped up in webbing and fell, but the others kept going.

"Aargh!", Spider-Man twisted himself sideways, but the bats still left scratches on both his front and back, before flying away into the daylight.

"Gotcha.", Spider-Man heard the Goblin's voice from behind. Intense red lines bordered Spider-Man's vision, and beeps in his head became louder than in early Zelda games. He let go of the web line, falling right under a small rocket. Behind it the Goblin was flying, his mask free of webbing and his glider now having a cannon attached to it from underneath. The Goblin pressed something under one of his gloves, and the rocket exploded, its shockwave sending Spider-Man further down. Just before he hit the ground, he fired a web line into a nearby alley and pulled himself there.

"You used to last longer, you know!", Goblin followed Spider-Man into the alley. He pressed another button under his glove, and the vision in his eyes zoomed. But nowhere could he find Spider-Man, there was nothing but empty walls and snow. After shrugging with his shoulders, the Goblin flew away.

"He's right...", Spider-Man pulled himself from under the snow. "I used to be much stronger. Or is it I'm going to be much stronger? Not even a slightest clue on what to blame, me being sixteen or him still enjoying his prime."

"Wait, a second... he doesn't know who I am yet!", Spider-Man jumped out of the snow with much more energy than before. "I can get to Oscorp, figure out what's going on, a good place to actually start as any."

"That is, Spider-Man can't get to Oscorp.", he tore down his makeshift web mask. "But I can."

* * *

**Oscorp Tower, 9:30 AM**

The Oscorp Tower was the same as before, every floor up to a certain height having a massive hole in the middle, making everything look like a massive barrel. This time, the hall was mostly empty when Peter Parker entered, wearing blue ski pants and a white winter jacket. His face was clean, but his neck was darkened. He held his hands in the jacket's pockets, stepping forward and looking for an elevator. The centre of the hall not having a statue yet caught his eye, instead two very real people stood there. One of them was a man in a dark green suit, black shirt and purple tie underneath. His skull shape was clearly visible due to his skin outlining it perfectly. His green eyes were glowing, contrasting their light to black circles around his eyes. His short brown hair with red lines was shared by the other person staying next to him, a sixteen-year-old boy. He had green eyes like the other man, but his looked normal as opposed to neon lamps the other man had. He wore blue jeans and a black sweater.

"Oh really now, like I am actually supposed to believe such a transparent excuse.", the older man had his arms crossed, looking down on the younger one with a sharp expression on his eyes, and his lips closed in a frown.

"But dad, it's true...", the younger one spoke quietly, unlike the older man's pounding loud voice, despite being a low tone.

"No, it's not. Now go to school before I...", the older man heard footsteps and turned to the side. The source of said footsteps turned out to be Peter walking by. "Hello, Peter."

Hello to you too, you walking green wart, he wanted to say. But instead "Hello, mister Osborn" came out.

"How come you are not in school, Peter?", Osborn said in a less threatening voice than before.

Oh crap, school, I completely forgot that is now a thing, thought Peter.

"Umm... classes were... cancelled today, due to... blizzard, yeah. The school is overrun with snow and everybody is shivering, so studies are cancelled today. So I... came to visit Harry.", Peter avoided Osborn's gaze like a plague.

"Oh. So it is true. My apologies, Harry." He turned over to Harry for a second, then back to Peter. "What happened to your neck?"

"That... was a cooking accident. My first time making pizza..."

"One strange cooking accident indeed.", Osborn began to walk away. "But at least you cook for yourself."

"You're skipping.", Peter waited for Norman to be far away enough, and turned to Harry.

"Gee, what tipped you off?", Harry was still looking at Norman, while clenching his teeth and fists. "You're skipping too, golden boy."

"Yeah, that I am...", act inconspicuous, Peter thought. "You wanna play some Street Fighter 2?"

"Sure."

* * *

**Harry's Room**

Harry's room was nothing spectacular. Just brown walls filled with posters of a man in a black cowl, brown couch, and an old big TV with a dusty Sega Genesis attached to it. The TV was showing two sprites of people, one man in white karate gi with sleeves ripped off, and another one in a similar red karate gi. Peter sat on the couch from the side the red-dressed man was on the screen, the opposite side given to Harry. Both Peter and Harry held standard Sega Genesis controllers. The two sprites were surrounded in a cage, which had a sign with "Запрещается смотреть детям" written on it in Russian, which means "Forbidden to watch for children". A couple of them could be seen in the crowd outside the cage, though, which meant sprite children were exempt from such laws.

The screen displayed this text: "Round 1", and then: "FIGHT!"

The man in red jumped back, the man in white ducked. Peter's character began throwing balls of blue fire right upon landing. His opponent crossed arms in front of his face, still ducking. Apparently, such a move was effective in blocking fire, and they ceased to exist with a "thud" sound. The situation continued for twenty seconds, if the timer on the top part of the screen was to be believed.

"Would you stop spamming, please?", said Harry after pressing the fireball motion on his controller. But before his character could even say "Hadouken", Peter's fireball hit him right in the face.

"You're always welcome to stop me yourself.", Peter did not stop his barrage of fireballs, perfectly putting in the needed motion each time.

"This is the kind of stuff that ruins fighting games... what?!", Harry's character jumped forward, ready to deliver a nasty downward kick. But Harry's hopes and dreams were crushed by a diagonal jumping uppercut from Peter's character. Harry's character fell down, expressing himself through a low-quality digitized scream.

"Oh come on, there is no way to get to you! This game sucks...", Harry returned to passive sitting and blocking. "You're just getting an easy win."

"Ok, you're welcome to try.", Peter stopped his distance attacks, and assumed the sit-and-block position himself.

"I'll show you.", Harry began to use fireballs himself, though his attacks were less frequent, with punches that couldn't possibly reach Peter sometimes substituting the fireballs. During one of such breaks Peter's character jumped forward. Harry paused for a second, but then noticed that the distance was too big, and resumed his ranged attacks. Peter walked forward during the breaks Harry still had. Harry performed the jumping uppercut, flying right above Peter's character. Harry pressed buttons like mad, but his character kept landing without response and only a kick from Peter changed his flying trajectory.

"To hell with this game!", Harry threw his controller on the floor, with the sound of something breaking in it as it reached the floor.

"Ok, ok, jeez.", Peter put down his controller gently on the couch. "Listen, I need a bathroom break. I'll be back and everything."

I won't, he thought. I have other things to do.

* * *

**Oscorp Tower Laboratories**

"Well... this is the floor.", Peter stood in an empty corridor with a metal door at the end.

"Hmm, what was it...", Peter looked at the number lock on that door. "Emily."

The door opened, revealing a small room. Peter walked in.

"Time to dig through all this Goblin sh...", he stopped. "What is this?"

Instead of Goblin armor and weapons, the room was empty on the center. Its only fillings were empty flasks on the shelves. Hundreds of empty flasks, occupying all the walls in the room. They were small, and each part of the wall could contain countless amount of them. Peter walked over to a random part of the wall, putting out a flask. It had a small piece of paper attached to it. The paper had "Oz-191" written on it.

"What does that mean?", he put the flask on its place.

"I'll tell you.", a voice said from behind. Peter almost jumped to the ceiling. But instead he just turned around and saw Norman Osborn. "Cure."

"For what?", Peter tried to keep his tone normal, despite Norman's presence.

"Lots of things. That one you held just now was for malignant neoplasms of frontal lobe. When introduced to the body, this chemical solution would safely wipe the tumors away, restoring the fall-back mechanisms within cells that prevented them from becoming cancer cells in the first place and destroying the already outgrown cells without otherwise harming the body."

Norman spread his arms, pointing at every flask in the room.

"What you see here is cure for every kind of cancer in the world."

"W-what...", Peter stepped back. "B-but... that's incredible! A discovery of the century! Imagine how it changes the world, how it could..."

He was going to say "save aunt May", but couldn't.

"And yet, my boy, it's empty. All of it. You can ask me "why" now."

"Why? This could have saved the world...", Peter lowered his head. Empty, he thought. Then again, I'm not even sure where I am, what kind of hope do I have of using what's here. Even then... empty.

"Why not?", Osborn spoke in the same cold tone he had before.

"What kind of a question is that?!", suddenly, Peter's eyes were directly facing Norman's. Neither of them was blinking. "Do you have any idea what good this would do?!"

"I do. And yet, I will never release it into the world. I have destroyed it all and I will not hesitate doing so again, if I have to.", Norman's tone became colder.

Peter blinked.

"But why?"

"Everything everybody ever done is the result of their own efforts and competence. All of us are created equal, and are getting equal chance of happiness. That, my boy, is what they fed us. And it's all a lie.", Norman walked closer to Peter.

"It's our responsibility to use whatever power we have for the benefit of others. That's what "they" fed me, and I am sticking to it.", Peter's tone became as cold as Norman's.

"And what has that given you? Your uncle Benjamin, the man closest to a father you ever had before, is gunned down in a random incident. You couldn't do anything to save him."

"You're wrong. I could. But I didn't, I decided not to, because I thought the world didn't deserve it. And because of that, my uncle is now dead."

"That's what I thought at first too. That the world couldn't possibly be this unjust, that I did something wrong, that I neglected to do something else.", Osborn's voice gave signs of trembling, it became louder with every sentence. "And it turned out to be just a joke. You watch your loved ones die slowly, begging for you to save them, as you try solution after solution and it doesn't help. The sight of them finally realising you weren't worth their trust after all as they slide into oblivion with that being her very last thought!"

"Tell me it's my responsibility now, come on, tell me, Parker! Tell me I should suck it up and help some worthless stranger who didn't do even a fraction of what I have done!" Norman grabbed Peter by the collar with both hands. Every muscle on his face was tense, giving the image of an unleashed beast.

"That stranger could have had spared the agony of what you went through.", Peter spoke in a calm voice. "Many others too. You could have been the last person ever having to experience it. But instead you decided to sink the world all the way down to your level. That isn't strength, Norman. It's weakness."

Norman released Peter, who began to walk away. When Peter reached the doorstep, Norman spoke again in his usual cold tone.

"Someday you will be in my shoes, and see things my way.", Peter could not see it, but Norman smiled a smile so wide, it couldn't possibly be natural.

Peter just continued to walk away.

As soon as Peter was in the elevator and the doors closed, Norman took a deep and satisfied breath.

"He fell for that, huh... Anyway. Computer. Code thirty-nine, nineteen-sixty-six, engage."

The walls span around, revealing the other side of each. On the side walls, Goblin armor and weapons were present on the shelves. On the far center wall, there was a terminal and two pads. On the left, Norman dropped some brown hair from his hands. He took out a Spider-Man mask from his pocket and held it over the other pad. After some shaking, brown hair fell off the mask. Norman then threw the mask away. The pads retracted into the terminal.

"Analyzing... analyzing... analyzing...", the computer displayed. After approximately five minutes it showed this text:

"Match 100%."

At first, Norman was silent and not moving. Then he smiled. Then his smile got wider. Eventually more and more of his face was intensified, and he broke out into a horrific, echoing laugh of a monster.

* * *

**Harry's Room**

Harry still sat where he was before, staring blankly at the screen. The TV displayed "Street Fighter 2: The World Warrior" text on an otherwise black screen. Both controllers were untouched, one on the floor with some cracks, the other intact on the couch.

"And what have you been doing?", Norman stood on the doorstep.

"Nothing..." Harry whispered.

"Nothing, precisely. Absolutely nothing. While others went out of their way to become legends at your age, you've been... nothing." Norman picked up the remote and pressed a red button. The TV was turned off. "As always, a completely natural course of events."

"Nothing new with me... I know I'll always be nothing.", Harry covered his face with his hands.

"You say that as if you earned those words. You haven't. Even Peter hasn't earned them yet, and he has far more strength and conviction you'll ever have." Norman put the remote back down.

"It's always Peter this and Peter that...", Harry whispered through his hands.

"What?", the elder Osborn walked over, now standing directly over his son.

"Just adopt him if you love him so much! And throw me into a piranha pit, I bet you got one of those, you monster!", Harry removed his hands from his face, his eyes now showing tears. They prevented him from looking at Norman directly and caused frequent blinks.

"My apologies, Harry...", Norman slowly wrapped his hands around Harry's neck. "I must have misheard you."

"N-no, I'm sorry, dad, I'm sorry...", Harry whispered as Norman's grip tightened.

"You see, my hearing is not as good as it used to be, age and all, and I think I heard you speaking out of line,", Norman's voice increased in pitch a bit.

"No, I wasn't...", Harry's sentence got interrupted by his own choking.

"Good, because then I'd be forced to take action, wouldn't I?", Norman smirked. "But I won't have to, because Harry will behave himself from now on, isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry tried to say something, but only choking sounds came out. His eyes began to close. But before they closed completely, he weakly nodded.

"Splendid.", Norman let go of him. Harry fell on the floor, gasping and crying. Norman began to walk away. Just at the doorstep, he stopped and looked back at Harry. For a second, his hand moved towards him in a gesture that would let Harry get up with its help.

"Not worth it.", but then Norman just walked out. "Peter is though... but he needs a little push. And I know just the kind..."

* * *

**New York Streets, 10:00 AM**

Peter walked away from Oscorp Tower, preferring his comfy winter jacket over the Spider-Man costume to walk on empty streets of New York. Snowflakes fell one after the other, with each minute going faster and showing up more frequently. Peter pulled up the hood of his jacket, returning his hands to his pockets afterwards.

"Now what do I do...", he stopped in front of a short, but wide four-story building with red walls. "I learned nothing on how to get out from this weirdness, only made the situation worse."

"Wait a minute...", his eyes turned on the building. He ran over to its entrance, and it had "Midtown High School" written on it. "If this is the right timeline... then..."

With a sudden smile on his lips, he ran forward to the school entrance. Or at least, he would run, if the blizzard wasn't in the way. He spent a good minute fighting this force of nature as it pushed him back again and again. He could almost hear the blizzard laugh in a high-pitched synthetic manner.

Wait, he thought, blizzards don't laugh.

He saw falling glass in front of himself. Instinctively he looked up, and saw a broken window on the first floor. Out of it came out a barely visible flying object, leaving a trail of smoke. A figure vaguely resembling the Green Goblin carried a girl with long blonde hair.

"Gwen!", Peter screamed at the top of his lungs, firing webshots like mad at the Goblin's general direction. "No, come back! Come back!"

He jumped so high superheroes with actual super-jumping would feel insecure. But the forward distance wasn't anything impressive due to Peter suddenly falling a few meters in the wrong direction and landing on his back.

"No, not now, let me see her!" Snowflakes reversed and began to hit him from that side, until whatever was ahead became invisible to the human eye.

Peter became overpowered by the snow itself, throwing entire snow drifts away just to stay on his legs. No longer could he see the road, Midtown School, or even other bigger buildings. It all became snow, wherever the eye can see.

Peter blinked.

After he opened his eyes again, the image stayed the same, apart from one stone sticking out. Silently Peter walked closer to it and wiped the snow off its front. It had text engraved on it:

"May Reilly Parker, beloved wife and aunt"

* * *

**Aunt May's Home, 4th of March, 9:00 AM**

"No!", Peter jumped out of the bed and landed right on the ceiling. "Just a dream... just a dream... good..."

"Am I an adult now?", he jumped down and looked at the mirror. "Technically yes, phew."

He prepared to scream in delight, until he looked around. Mary Jane was in the bed by his side, her eyes still closed and herself still snoozing.

"Though the events weren't quite as I remembered them...", he whispered. "This dream gave me an idea..."

* * *

**Oscorp Tower Board Of Directors, 4th of March, 10:00 AM**

"Gotta love the punctuality.", Peter looked at his old wind-up watch. He wore the same Stark-gifted suit the same way he wore it before, to the point he even forgot it was Stark-gifted. He hopped around the empty room and landed in the "C.E.O." seat.

"Now then, what's on the course... oh.", he noticed the transfer papers on the table.

"Hi, Peter, are we ready to do this or what?", Harry walked into the room with a smile. "Have you signed them?"

Peter took the pen and held it over the part of the paper that he had to sign. For about a minute he stared at it.

"What's wrong? Is it out of ink?", Harry walked over to Peter.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't sign this.", Peter put the pen back.

"W-what? What do you mean?", Harry's voice trembled.

"I know I said I didn't need this before, but now I do. Things have changed. I'm sorry.", Peter stood up.

"This is mine. I-it belongs to me, by right!", Harry's eyes faced Peter's. But only Harry's eyes were blinking.

"I wouldn't do this if I didn't have a good reason, Harry, trust me. Whatever it is you need it for, I can help, but I need this.", Peter walked around the table.

"I can help you with whatever you're needed. What is it? Money? Research?", Harry's gaze followed Peter.

"No. I can only trust myself with this one."

"Oh, he asks me to trust him, but he can't trust me, that's pretty rich.", Harry's tone suddenly rose up. "Look into my eyes!"

"Look at what I had done to earn this, do you have any idea what I have sacrificed?!", Harry pointed at his neon-green eyes.

The next two minutes were spent by rotor noises of helicopters flying far from the building were only rivaled by the sound of Peter and Harry breathing. Harry slowly raised his hand, his shaking pointer finger on Peter, and his face trying to pass as his father's frightening frown.

"You know what I'm capable of.", his voice was as shaky as his finger. "I am the son of Norman Osborn. Like him, I have ways of getting what I want."

The events before this were like bricks in Peter's mind. Each of them normally lay on the floor, harmless, but once thrown from heights, each after the other, commenced cracks on whatever they landed. And Peter felt the cracks. He felt rage building up in him, fueled by Harry's voice. The voice became unbearable to Peter, like a splitting headache. Suddenly, he broke into a laugh, leaning half-way forward and holding his belly by his hand.

"W-what's so funny?"

"You? "Capable" of something?", Peter spoke through laughter. "You couldn't tie up your shoelaces without your dad doing it for you and now you think you can threaten me?"

"Watch your words!", the volume of Harry's voice became much higher. "I am his son and I can take anything I want from you away! Or anyone!"

"What did you just say?", Peter said in a sudden hard, sharp tone.

"I... I mean...", Harry lowered his hand.

"Did you just threaten my family?", Peter spoke in the same tone. Harry's knees began to shake, but he clenched his fists, and they stopped.

"Dad loved me, he wanted me to have this...", Harry's eyes turned to the papers.

"Loved you? To him you were like an old college photo of him in pink underpants, if it also included a soundboard of whiny quotes. He never gave a flying broomstick about you and..."

Peter smirked.

"I can kinda see why."

Instead of responding, Harry jumped across the table at Peter. Peter caught Harry mid-air by the collar and end of his shirt, and tossed him over himself across the room. Harry landed on the front of his body.

"Did that calm the baby Goblin yet?", Peter crossed his arms. Harry slowly stood up. In both of his hands he held a sword with a green gardless handle and a curved single-edged blade.

"Where did you...", before Peter could finish his question, Harry ran towards him and performed a vertical slash motion more common among executioners rather than fencers. Peter stepped out of the way long before spider-sense kicked in, and hammered Harry from above.

"Argh..." Harry hunched, but continued to run, creating more distance between them.

"I'll kill you!", Harry walked towards Peter, waving his sword horizontally like Hulk waved a plank to smash people. Peter walked backwards faster, also leaning back out of the way of Harry's swinging. Eventually something prevented Peter from moving further back. Without glancing back he grabbed what turned out to be a chair and hurled it towards Harry. It knocked him down, so Peter ran forward and stomped on Harry's sword hand. Harry screamed and ungripped his weapon. While Harry used his other hand to toss the chair aside, Peter threw the sword through the glass window. The window broke apart, the pieces of its glass followed the sword on the trip outside. The chair soon joined them as well.

"No! My sword!", Harry tried to stand up, only to be quickly pinned down by Peter's both hands. They both gripped each other by their suit jackets, laying down close to the now broken window. Before either of them could fall, Peter used all of his strength to stand up and toss Harry to the other end of the room, through the table, breaking it in half and sending the transfer papers flying. Harry barely stood up, holding by his back and breathing heavily. Peter did not move, also trying to catch his breath. Their eyes met and they both clenched their fists so hard, the fists began to bleed.

"Freeze!', two men in black uniforms with "security" engraved on them entered the room with their Glock pistols pointing forward. "Mister Parker, is everything alright?"

"Oh, nothing much...", Peter caught his breath and pointed at Harry. "Just... escort the drama queen out of here, if that's ok with you."

"I now understand what he saw in you.", Harry spitted on the floor and began to walk out. He and the two security men left the room.

Peter fell on his knees, his hands holding his forehead.

"I'm sorry..."

The transfer papers fell in front of him. He picked them up and slowly rose up himself.

"He hasn't won yet, aunt May. I promise I will save you.", Peter tore down the papers and sent them flying through the broken window.

* * *

**End Chapter Five**


End file.
